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LIFE STORIES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


LIFE STORIES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 
Translated from the German by 
GEORGE P. UPTON 

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ERCURY DESCENDING TO EARTH 



Life Stories for Young People 

V ^ 

ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


Translated from the German of 
Karl Friedrich Becker 

BY 

GEORGE P. UPTON 

Author of “ Musical Memories “ Standard Operas etc. 
Translator of “ Memories “ Immenseef* etc. 


WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS 



CHICAGO 

A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
1912 




a 


Copyright 

A. C. McClurg & Co. 
1912 

Published September, 1912 


THE • PLIMPTON • PRESS 
( W • D • O ] 

NORWOOD • MASS • U • S • A 




'£CU319940 


Cranglator'fif i^reface 


M any years ago Karl Friedrich Becker 
wrote a series of romances of the ancient 
world for German boys and girls, of 
which “Ulysses” and “Achilles” in the present 
series of “Life Stories for Young People” form an 
important part. They became great favorites in 
their day and still preserve their interest, so that in 
a sense they may be called classics. The masterly 
manner in which the author has presented the old 
gods and heroes from the human point of view and 
the atmosphere of the old days of mythology, as 
well as the thrill of the adventurous narrative and 
the deep human interest of the story, should com- 
mend them also to American boys and girls. None 
of the ancient stories is more entrancing than that of 
Ulysses and the vicissitudes he had to endure in 
his effort to return to Ithaca after the Trojan war, 
and of the patience, sweetness, and faithfulness of 
Penelope, as she waited year after year for the 
return of her lord, while her life was made wretched 
by the unwelcome and often brutal solicitations of 
her numerous suitors, as well as of her final happi- 
ness when Ulysses returned and wreaked deserved 
vengeance upon her persecutors. Incidentally also 
the reader will enjoy the charming descriptions of 

[v] 


TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE 


his adventures with Calypso and the beautiful 
Nausicaa, his escape from the monstrous Cyclops, 
the fascinating Circe, and his thrilling experiences 
in passing Scylla and Charybdis. It is a story 
replete with interest, delightfully told. 

G. P. U. 


Chicago, Juljy 1912 


[vi] 


Contents? 


Chapter Page 

I Penelope waiting for Ulysses — The 
Suitors — Telemachus, encouraged by 

Athene, sets sail ii 

II Telemachus visits Nestor and Mene- 

LAUS — The Suitors prepare an Am- 
bush 21 

III Calypso allows Ulysses to go home 

— Poseidon sends a storm — Ulysses 

IS WRECKED UPON THE ISLAND OF 
SCHERIA 37 

IV Nausicaa 43 

V Ulysses visits the King of the Ph^a- 

CIANS 49 

VI Ulysses among the Ph^acians ... 55 

VII Ulysses tells his Story — The Lotus- 

Eaters, Polyphemus, Circe, Scylla, 

AND Charybdis — The Visit to Hades 64 

VIII Ulysses is taken sleeping to Ithaca 

BY THE Ph^ACIANS — AtHENE COUNSELS 
HIM — He comes to Eum^eus ... 96 

Ivii] 


CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

IX Telemachus leaves Sparta and lands 

IN Ithaca io8 

X Arrival of Telemachus — Ulysses re- 
veals HIMSELF TO HIS SoN . . . II3 

XI Ulysses and the 'Goatherd — The Dog 
Argos — Ulysses in the Hall among 

THE Suitors 117 

XII Ulysses and Irus, the Beggar . . 124 

XIII Ulysses and Penelope 130 

XIV Penelope arranges the Decisive Con- 

test 136 

XV Ulysses’ Revenge 147 

XVI Ulysses reveals himself to Penelope 152 

XVII Ulysses goes to Laertes — His Father’s 

Conflict with the Friends of the 
SLAIN Suitors — Great Sacrifice and 
Festival in Ithaca 158 


[viii] 


Sllucftrationtf 

Mercury Descending to Earth 

Frontispiece ' 

The Blinding of Polyphemus . 

✓ 

• . 72 

Invocation of the Shades in Hades 

. . 86"" 

Ulysses Reveals himself to Penelope . 

. . 156 


[ix] 



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511lp0ge0 of Jtl)aca 


Chapter 1 

Penelope waiting for Ulysses — Phe Suitors — 
Telemachus, encouraged by Athene, sets sail 

W orld-renowned Troy had fallen. 

After a siege of ten long years the united 
forces of the Greeks had sacked and 
burned the city. The princes, having thus satis- 
fied their thirst for revenge, now longed for home, 
and putting to sea with their ships, soon sailed 
away with their companions. Some reached home 
in safety, others were tossed to and fro upon stormy 
seas, wandered about for years, and never suc- 
ceeded in reaching their native land. Agamemnon, 
the bravest of the surviving heroes, met a still more 
terrible fate. Joyfully he had gazed once more 
upon his ancestral home, and thanking the gods 
for his safe return, hastened impetuously to the 
arms of his beloved spouse Clytemnestra, not know- 
ing that the faithless one had wed another during 
his absence. The false one received him with feigned 
tenderness and presented him with a refreshing 
draught; he disrobed, drank with deep emotion 
from the old familiar goblet, and stretched his 
weary limbs luxuriously upon the soft cushions. 

[II] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


Alas! while the unsuspecting hero slept, the de- 
spoiler of his fortune and his spouse suddenly fell 
upon him with a sword and slew him. 

How different is the story of the noble Penelope, 
the beautiful wife of Ulysses! He was king of the 
isle of Ithaca, off the western coast of Greece, and 
had been drawn into the war against Troy. Ever 
since her husband had set sail, a number of the young 
princes of Ithaca and the neighboring islands had 
beset her with proposals for her hand. She was 
young and beautiful and had great wealth in sheep 
and cattle, goats and swine, so that whoever wed 
her might hope, by taking UlySses’ place as chief of 
the island, to rule over the minor princes. This 
was a tempting prospect and the young men used 
every means in their power to persuade the beauti- 
ful queen to return to her father’s house as a widow, 
so that they might formally demand her hand 
according to ancient custom. Ulysses, they said, 
would never return. But it was not easy for the 
suitors to banish the image of her beloved husband 
from the heart of this devoted wife. She could not so 
lightly break the tie in which she had found her youth- 
ful happiness. He will surely return, she thought, 
and though she wept day and night for fear and long- 
ing, this hope cheered her anxious soul. Year after 
year passed and still the war went on. At last news 
reached Ithaca that Troy had fallen and the heroes 
were returning. Fresh hope now filled the heart of 
the faithful wife, but another year passed, and still 
another, and no ship brought back her lord. 

[ 12 ] 


PENELOPE WAITING FOR ULYSSES 


Penelope talked with every stranger who came to 
Ithaca and asked for news of the hero. His com- 
panions were said to have returned long ago — 
Nestor to Pylos, Menelaus to Sparta; no one knew 
what had become of Ulysses or whether he was dead 
or living. For nine years longer the poor woman 
nursed her grief, until nineteen years had passed 
since she had seen her lord. He had left her with a 
nursling, now grown into a handsome lad, who was 
her only consolation, but much too impotent to cope 
with the presumptuous rabble, which became each 
year more insistent and at length hit upon a cruel 
means of forcing the poor lady to return to her 
father’s house. They leagued themselves with the 
princes of the neighborhood, over a hundred in num- 
ber, and agreed that they would all assemble each 
morning at Ulysses’ palace, there to consume the 
produce of his herds and granaries and to drink his 
wines, until his heir, Telemachus, for fear of becom- 
ing impoverished, should be compelled to thrust 
his faithful mother from the door and thus force 
her into another marriage. Thenceforth the great 
halls of Ulysses’ palace were filled from morning till 
night with these uninvited guests, who compelled 
the king’s servants to do their bidding. They took 
what they wanted and mocked the owners with 
loud shouts and laughter. The herds were dimin- 
ishing perceptibly, the abundance of grain and wine 
disappearing, and there was no one able to check 
the robbers. Penelope sat in her upper chamber 
at her loom and wept; Telemachus was derided 

[13] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


whenever he showed himself among the insolent 
crowd. 

A god had brought this woe upon Ulysses’ house. 
Poseidon, ruler of the sea, was angry at the hero,' 
who had sorely offended him. Therefore he drove 
him from south to north and from east to west 
upon the broad seas, dashed his ships to pieces, 
killed his companions, and forced him through whirl- 
pools and canyons to strange peoples. And now, 
while his insolent neighbors were consuming his 
substance, he was held a prisoner upon a lonely 
island far from home, where reigned Calypso, a 
daughter of the gods. She desired him for her hus- 
band, but Ulysses brooded continually upon his dear 
country, his wife, and son. He went daily to the 
shore, and seated himself mournfully by the surf, 
wishing for nothing more ardently than that he might 
see the smoke ascending from his own hearth before 
he died. 

The gods in high Olympus were touched, espe- 
cially his friend Athene. One day, when they were 
all assembled in their vast halls and the unfriendly 
Poseidon happened to be absent among the Ethio- 
pians, Athene seized the opportunity to relate the 
story of the sad plight of Ulysses and Penelope to 
father Jupiter. The king of the gods was filled with 
compassion and gladly granted his daughter’s re- 
quest that she might be permitted to visit Telem- 
achus in disguise, to breathe courage into his 
soul, and that Hermes should be sent to the isle of 
Ogygia to transmit the command of the gods to 

[14] 


PENELOPE WAITING FOR ULYSSES 


Calypso to release immediately her prisoner. Athene 
straightway prepared for the journey. She bound 
her golden sandals upon her feet, took her mighty 
lance in her hand, and descending like the wind 
upon Ithaca, stood suddenly before Telemachus’ 
lofty gateway, in the guise of Mentor, the Taphian 
king. Here she saw with amazement the wild com- 
pany of wanton suitors feasting and drinking, gam- 
bling and shouting, and the servants of Telemachus 
waiting upon them, carving the meat, washing 
the tables, and pouring wine and mixing it with 
water after the ancient custom. Among them, 
taking no part in their revels, sat Telemachus, with 
a heavy heart. He no sooner saw the stranger at 
the gate than he went to meet him, gave him his 
hand, and, greeting him kindly, took his lance. He 
then conducted the unknown guest into the dwell- 
ing, but not among the revellers, so that his meal 
should not be disturbed by their riotous behavior. 
The stranger was placed upon a dais, with a foot- 
stool under his feet. Telemachus seated himself 
beside him, and at a sign a servant immediately 
brought a golden ewer and a silver basin, bathed 
their hands, and placed a polished table before them. 
The stewardess brought bread and meat, while a 
lusty servant poured the wine. 

Not until the stranger had been refreshed with 
food and drink did Telemachus ask his name and the 
object of his journey. ‘‘I am Mentor, the son of 
Alcimus, and rule the Taphians,” said the dis- 
guised goddess. ‘T have come hither on my way 

[15] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


to Temesa, in a ship which lies at anchor in the bay, 
and as Ulysses and I are old friends, I wished in 
passing to pay thee a visit.” 

Thereupon Telemachus told the story of his 
wrongs to his guest. The goddess listened atten- 
tively, just as though she had not known it all 
before. She advised him to adopt a manly atti- 
tude in public assemblage, boldly to forbid the suitors 
the house, and, above all, to set out for Sparta and 
Pylos, where lived the valiant heroes Nestor and 
Menelaus, Ulysses’ companions in the siege of 
Troy. There he might learn where they had parted 
from his father and where he was now most likely 
to be found; “for a divine inspiration tells me that 
he is not dead,” added Mentor. “He is indeed 
far away, shipwrecked and held by cruel captors, 
but thou shalt certainly see him again if thou wilt 
follow my advice.” 

The youth began to love and revere his father’s 
old friend. In accordance with the ancient rites 
of hospitality, he offered him a gift at his departure, 
which was declined on the plea of haste. He prom- 
ised to come again on his return voyage, however 
when he would take the gift with him. Upon this, he 
disappeared suddenly like a bird, and for the first 
time Telemachus suspected that he had been enter- 
taining a divinity. He pondered all that the stran- 
ger had said, and determined to follow the divine 
counsel. He began at once to protest against the 
suitors’ demeanor, and they, never having seen him 
appear so manly before, were astonished at his 

Ii6] 


PENELOPE WAITING FOR ULYSSES 


boldness. Antinous and Eurymachus, however, the 
most insolent among them all, mocked at his words 
and soon had them all laughing at him. They spent 
the evening in song and dance, and when night 
came dispersed as usual to their own dwellings. 

Telemachus also went to his sleeping chamber, 
accompanied by his faithful old nurse, Euryclea, 
carrying a flaming torch before him. He threw 
off his soft flowing garment and tossed it to the old 
dame who, folding it carefully, hung it on the wooden 
peg by his bed. Telemachus threw himself upon 
his couch and wrapped himself in the woollen covers. 
The old dame retired, barring the doors. 

As soon as morning dawned Telemachus sprang 
from his couch, dressed himself, laced his sandals, 
and girded on his sword. Thus apparelled, the stately 
youth sallied forth. He sent out heralds to sum- 
mon the populace to assemble, and when the crowd 
had gathered in close ranks, he went among them 
bearing his lance and accompanied by two swift- 
footed dogs. Then to the amazement of all, Te- 
lemachus stepped forth, caused the heralds to bring 
him the sceptre, as a sign that he wished to speak, 
and began as follows: “I have called you, people 
of Ithaca, because the deep distress of my house 
impels me. My father, as you know, is far away, 
perhaps forever lost to me. I am forced to endure 
every day a swarm of unmannerly guests intrench- 
ing themselves in my house, who pretend to court 
my mother, while they maliciously consume my 
substance and will soon make a beggar of the king’s 

[ 17] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


son. Unhappy one! I need a man such as Ulysses 
was to purge my house of this plague. Therefore I 
pray you to resent the wrong. Be ashamed before 
your neighbors and fear the vengeance of the gods. 
Did my good father ever intentionally offend you, 
and am I not already unhappy enough in losing 
him.^’’ 

At these words tears overcame him and he dashed 
the sceptre to the ground. Pity and compassion 
seized upon the assemblage. All were silent except 
the most determined of the suitors, Antinous, who 
answered insolently: “ Bold-tongued youth, what 
sayest thou? Wouldst thou make us hateful in 
the eyes of the people ? Who but thyself is to blame 
for thy troubles? Why dost thou not send away 
thy mother and why does she not go willingly? 
Has she not mocked us with subterfuges and kept 
us in suspense for more than three years? Did 
she not say: ‘Delay the wedding until I shall have 
finished weaving the shroud for my old father-in- 
law, Laertes, that the women may not censure me 
if the old man, who in life possessed such riches, 
should be carried out unclothed’? And what did 
the crafty lady do? She wove day after day, but 
the garment was never finished, and at length we 
learned the secret from one of her women. By 
lamp-light she undid the work of the day. Then we 
compelled her to finish it, and now we demand that 
she shall keep her promise. Thou must immedi- 
ately command her to return to her father’s house 
and take for her husband whoever pleases her or 
[18] 


PENELOPE WAITING FOR ULYSSES 


one whom her father shall select for her. If thou 
doest this, none of us will molest thee further; but 
we shall not retire until she has chosen a bridegroom 
from among the Achaians.’’ 

Telemachus spurned the proposal with righteous 
indignation. Once more he besought the suitors 
to spare his house and threatened them with the 
vengeance of the gods. But they only mocked at 
him and everyone who took his part. He then pro- 
posed that a ship should be fitted out, so that he 
might sail to Pylos and Sparta to seek his father, 
and if in a year’s time he should have heard nothing 
of him, he promised that his mother should wed 
with whom she would. 

This proposal was received with scorn, and the 
assembly broke up. Sadly Telemachus wandered 
down to the sea, bathed his hands in the dark waters, 
and prayed to the goddess who had appeared to 
him the day before. Behold, as he stood there 
alone. Mentor, his father’s old friend, came toward 
him. He also had been amongst the people and had 
heard with anger the defiant language of the suitors. 
Indeed he had arisen to speak for Telemachus, but 
their mocking cries prevented him; and now he 
reappeared, as Telemachus believed, to assist him in 
carrying out his plans. 

Mentor, or rather Athene, encouraged him, 
urged him not to delay the journey, and even offered 
to supply a ship and crew. Telemachus went 
straight home, confided his plan to his old nurse 
Euryclea, and ordered her to provide wine in jars, 

[19] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


meal in skins, and whatever else was needful for the 
voyage. The tender-hearted old dame wept bit- 
terly when she saw the delicate youth prepare to 
start on such a long and dangerous journey. She 
begged him a thousand times to give it up and await 
his father’s arrival at home. He was manfully 
resolute, however, and the nurse was obliged to 
promise to keep his departure a secret — not even 
to tell his mother until she should have missed him. 

Athene, in Mentor’s shape, was meanwhile em- 
ployed in hiring a ship and oarsmen, so that by 
evening everything was in readiness. When the 
suitors had retired and everyone was asleep. Men- 
tor took Telemachus secretly away. The youths 
carried the provisions down to the ship, raised the 
mast, and bound it fast with ropes. Then the rowers 
came aboard and loosed the ship from shore. Athene 
had seated herself by the side of Telemachus. The 
oars splashed gayly on the quiet surface of the 
sea. The silent night encompassed them, and only 
the twinkling stars illumined with a faint light the 
dark waters through which the vessel was being 
swiftly propelled. 


[ 20 ] 


Chapter II 


Telemachus visits Nestor and Menelaus — 
T’he Suitors prepare an Ambush 


sunrise the travellers saw Pylos before 



them, a little town on the western coast 


X Jl of Peloponnesus, or the present peninsula 
of Morea. It was the home of the venerable Nes- 
tor, who lived amongst his subjects like a father 
with his children. His descendants were numerous 
and all the people reverenced his opinion, and loved 
him for his kindness and benignity, and the recital 
of his adventures whiled away many an hour for 
the eager youths who hung upon his words. 

On the morning when Telemachus and his com- 
panions were nearing Pylos, Nestor had summoned 
his people to the shore to offer up a great sacrifice 
to Poseidon. These thousands of festive people, 
ranged in nine columns each composed of five hun- 
dred men, made a wonderful picture. Each column 
had contributed nine bulls which, having been of- 
fered up, were now smouldering on the altars, while 
the people were feasting upon the residue. 

Athene and young Telemachus disembarked, and, 
leaving the ship in the care of the rowers, set out on 
foot toward the scene of festivity. The divine 


[21 ] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


guide encouraged the timid youth to address the 
old man boldly and instructed him what to say and 
how to conduct himself. 

Scarcely had the men of Pylos caught sight of 
them when a group of youths hastened forward to 
welcome them, holding out their hands in friendly 
greeting, according to the hospitable custom of 
ancient times. Pisistratus, Nestor’s youngest son, 
was the most cordial of them all. He took both 
strangers by the hand and led them to soft seats 
upon sheepskins beside his father and his brother, 
Thrasymedes, bringing meat and wine to refresh 
the weary guests. He then filled a golden goblet, 
quaffed it in Athene’s honor, and spoke to her as 
follows: “Dear guest, join us, I pray thee, in our 
joyful sacrifice; it is offered to Poseidon, ruler of the 
sea. Pour out this wine to the mighty god and pray 
to him for our welfare! No man can do without 
the gods! And when thou hast offered sacrifice and 
drunk of the wine, then give thy friend the goblet 
that he also may pray for us. Thou art the older, 
therefore I have offered the cup first to thee.” 

Athene was pleased with these modest and cour- 
teous words. She took the cup, poured a few drops 
on the ground, and prayed: “Hear me, Poseidon; 
deign to prosper every good work which we shall 
undertake. Crown Nestor and his sons with honor 
and graciously reward the men of Pylos for the holy 
sacrifice which they have offered before thee to-day. 
And graciously prosper my friend and me in the 
enterprise which has brought us hither!” Thus 
[ 22 ] 


TELEMACHUS VISITS NESTOR 


she prayed, and while still speaking, by reason of 
her divine power, she secretly granted the prayer. 
Then Telemachus received the cup from her hand 
and drank, also offering sacrifice and prayer for the 
feasting people. 

Not until the guests had partaken of food did the 
venerable Nestor consider it proper to inquire the 
name and business of the strangers. Telemachus 
told him the object of their journey and conjured 
the old man to tell him all he knew about his noble 
father, urging him not to conceal anything, however 
terrible, that would give him certainty as to his 
fate. Then Nestor began, with the garrulity of 
old age, to relate the adventures of the heroes and 
the story of his own return. But Telemachus 
could draw no comfort from these tales, for what 
he most wished to learn was what Nestor knew no 
better than himself. The old man advised him to 
go to Menelaus at Sparta, who of all the heroes 
had been longest on the way, and having only lately 
reached home, would certainly be able to give him 
news of Ulysses’ fate. Mentor approved of this 
proposal, and the journey to Sparta was determined 
upon. As by this time night was beginning to fall, 
the goddess reminded her young friend that it was 
time to set out. The sons of Nestor filled the cups 
once more and the customary offerings were made 
to Poseidon and the immortal gods. Then Mentor 
and Telemachus arose to go down to their vessel. 

“The gods forbid!” cried Nestor, when he saw 
them about to depart. “ Shall my guests spend the 

[23 1 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


day with me and go away to pass the night in a 
musty vessel, as though I were a poor man, who 
had no cloaks nor warm covers in my house? No, 
my friends, I have plenty of soft cushions and fine 
garments, and the son of my old friend Ulysses shall 
not thus depart so long as I live! And even when I 
am gone, there will always be sons to pay honor to 
the stranger within my gates.” 

“Well said,” answered Mentor. “Telemachus 
must accept thy hospitality. Let him go with thee 
to lodge in thy palace, but I must hasten to the shore 
to pass the night with the young sailors and look 
after their welfare. Very early in the morning I 
must pay a visit to the valiant Cauconians to settle 
an old debt. In the meanwhile do thou send Te- 
lemachus with thy sons to Sparta and provide him 
with a chariot and fleet horses for the journey.” 

With these words Mentor turned and in the shape 
of an eagle swung himself up into the air. All 
were amazed, but Nestor immediately recognized 
the goddess; for he knew how many times in the 
past she had aided Ulysses. “Take courage,” he 
said to Telemachus, “for thou seest that the gods 
are with thee. And thou, divine Athene, have mercy 
upon us all and crown us with fame and renown! 
Behold! I vow to thee each year a bull, broad of 
forehead and without blemish, which has never been 
under the yoke.” 

The people dispersed, and Nestor returned to 
his dwelling with his sons and their guest. On 
their arrival wine was again offered up and drunk, 

[24] 


TELEMACHUS VISITS NESTOR 


and then Pisistratus conducted Telemachus to a 
couch beside his own in the pillared hall. The other 
sons, being married, had their quarters in the inte- 
rior of the house. 

As soon as morning dawned the sons and their 
venerable father arose and assembled on the stone 
seats before the portal to discuss the proposed 
journey. Nestor presently sent some of his sons 
to select the offering which he had promised Athene. 
One was sent to the vessel to fetch all of Telemachus’ 
rowers except two, another to order a goldsmith 
to gild the horns of the victim, a third to command 
the shepherd to seek out and bring up an ox of the 
promised quality, and another finally to notify the 
maidens to prepare a banquet. 

It was not long before the goldsmith appeared, 
also the rowers, and the shepherd soon brought the 
desired animal. When the goldsmith had finished 
gilding the horns of the ox, two of the sons led it 
into the circle. Nestor, having sprinkled himself 
with water, cut off the animal’s forelock and cast 
it with prayer on the flaming altar, strewing conse- 
crated barley upon the ground. And now the mighty 
Thrasymedes advanced and struck a heavy blow 
with a sharp axe, which sundered the tendons of the 
animal’s neck and it fell stunned to the ground. 
Perseus caught the gushing blood in a vessel, while 
Pisistratus completed the slaughter of the victim. 
The others now came up to carve the beef. They 
cut off the shanks, wrapped them well in strips of 
fat, and laid them on the altar fire to send up deli- 

[25] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


cious odors to the goddess, sprinkled wine upon and 
roasted the other pieces for the offering, turning 
them upon spits. Other youths cut up the remainder 
and roasted it carefully for the feast. 

When all was prepared Telemachus appeared in 
the midst of the company beautiful as a god. He 
had bathed, anointed himself with oil, and wrapped 
himself in a rich mantle. The company sat down in 
a circle to enjoy the magnificent feast, and when 
they had eaten their fill, Nestor reminded his sons 
that it was time to depart. They quickly harnessed 
two horses to a chariot, while a servant stowed 
away bread, wine, and meat for the journey. Telem- 
achus took his place on the seat with Pisistratus 
beside him holding the reins and whip. They trav- 
elled rapidly all day and at eve reached Pherae, the 
dwelling of the good Diodes, who hospitably enter- 
tained them. On the second day they arrived at 
the castle of Menelaus in Lacedaemon, having rec- 
ognized his dominions by the broad fields of wheat. 
Pisistratus drew up his prancing steeds before the 
gateway of the castle, and the two strangers sprang 
hurriedly out. 

They heard sounds of revelry within. The voice 
of a singer was accompanied by the sweet tones of a 
stringed instrument, and through the open gateway 
they saw a crowd of guests in the centre of which 
two dancers were moving in time to the music. 
This was a great day in Menelaus’ palace. The old 
hero was celebrating the marriage of two of his 
children. There was so much noise and confusion 
[26] 


TELEMACHUS VISITS NESTOR 


within that the clatter of the chariot had not been 
noticed. A servant by chance saw the strangers 
at the gate. ‘‘Two strange youths of kingly 
mien are without. Shall I unharness their horses/’ 
he asked, “or shall I bid them drive on to seek 
hospitality elsewhere?” 

“What!” cried Menelaus angrily, “how canst 
thou ask such childish questions. Have we not 
ourselves received many gifts and been kindly enter- 
tained amongst strangers? Go quickly, take out 
the horses, and bring the men in to the feast!” 

The servant obeyed, and Telemachus and Pisis- 
tratus were conducted into the hall. They were 
astonished at the splendor of the palace, for Mene- 
laus had returned with great possessions. Maid ser- 
vants conducted them to the bath, and when they 
had anointed themselves, they donned their tunics 
and cloaks and took their places on raised seats 
beside the host. Servants appeared at once with 
small tables and food. One poured water over their 
hands from a golden ewer into a silver basin, while 
another brought wine, meat, and bread. “Now 
eat and drink with us,” cried Menelaus; “after- 
ward shall you tell me who you are, for I perceive 
that ye are no common men.” With these words 
he placed a fine fat piece of roast, his own special 
portion, upon their plates, and the youths found it 
a delicious morsel. 

Menelaus gazed at them intently. He remarked 
with satisfaction that they were astonished at the 
magnificence of his hall and of the utensils, and he 

[27] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


saw how they called each other’s attention secretly 
to new objects. This induced him to speak of his 
travels, of the perils to which he had been exposed 
for eight years after the Trojan war, and of the 
persons he had met who had presented him with 
the costly objects by which he was now surrounded. 
In his recital he often referred to the hardships of 
the Trojan war, while the mention of the ignomin- 
ious death of his brother, Agamemnon, caused him 
to shed bitter tears. “But,” he continued, “I 
would bear all this with patience if only I might 
have kept my friend, dearer to me than all the 
rest, the noble Ulysses, with whom I have shared 
good and evil days! Or if I but knew that he was 
safe and could have him near me! I would endow 
him with a city that we might live side by side and 
commune with each other daily until death should 
part us. But the gods alone know whether he is 
alive or dead. Perhaps his old father, his chaste 
wife, and his son Telemachus are even now mourn- 
ing him as dead!” 

Telemachus hid his tears behind his cloak. Mene- 
laus saw this and was uncertain whether to question 
him or to leave him to his grief. Just then his 
spouse, the once beautiful Helen, entered the hall 
accompanied by her maidens, one of whom brought 
her a chair, another carried the soft woollen carpet 
for her feet, a third her silver work basket. She 
seated herself near the strangers, observed them 
attentively, and then said to her husband: “Hast 
thou inquired the names of our guests.? I should 
[28] 


TELEMACHUS VISITS NESTOR 


say that two people were never more alike than this 
youth is unto the noble Ulysses.’’ 

“Indeed it is true,” answered the hero. “He 
has the hands, the feet, the eyes, and hair of Ulysses. 
And just now while I was speaking of our old friend, 
the hot tears sprang from the youth’s lids and he 
hid his face in the folds of his purple mantle.” 

“Thou art quite right, Menelaus, godlike ruler,” 
interrupted Pisistratus. “This is truly the son of 
Ulysses, but he is a modest youth and did not wish 
to make himself known at once with boastful speech. 
My father, Nestor, hath sent me with him thither 
that thou mightest give him tidings of his noble 
father and advice, for he is sore beset at home and 
there is none among the people to rise up and avert 
disaster from him.” 

Menelaus would now have rejoiced over the youth 
had not sad memories of his lost friend overwhelmed 
him. He wept, Helen also, and Telemachus still 
sobbed, while young Pisistratus was much moved. 
For a while they gave themselves up to their grief 
until Menelaus proposed that they should talk the 
matter over on the morrow and should now banish 
these sorrowful thoughts and return to the feast. 
This sensible advice was approved by all. A ser- 
vant at once laved the hands of the guests, and they 
began once more to eat and drink. Helen, who was 
an adept at various arts, secretly poured a magic 
powder into the wine. It was a wonderful spice 
given her by an Egyptian princess, which had the 
property of deadening every discomfort or sorrow 

[29] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


and cheering the soul, even though a father and 
mother, brother or sister, or even one’s own son 
had been killed before one’s eyes. They all drank 
of it and became gay. Helen told many amusing 
tales of the craftiness of Ulysses which she had 
herself experienced. For while she was still in 
Ilium he had come into the city in disguise to spy 
out the plans of the Trojans. No one recognized 
him, and only to Helen did he discover himself and 
confide the plans of the Greeks. Menelaus also 
told how they had been concealed within the wooden 
horse and would scarcely have withstood Helen’s 
call had Ulysses not restrained them. While the 
evening was thus being passed in confidential talk, 
Helen had a couch prepared in the hall with cush- 
ions and soft covers for the guests and a herald con- 
ducted them thither with a torch. Menelaus and 
his spouse, however, slept in the interior of the 
palace. 

Not until morning did the host ask his guests 
their business. Telemachus told him the story of 
the insolent suitors, and begged Menelaus for some 
news of his father. “Ah!” cried the hero when he 
had heard the tale, “it shall be as though the doe 
had left her young in the lion’s cave and had gone 
away to graze upon the hills. When the lion returns 
and finds the strange brood, he destroys them. 
Thus will Ulysses return to his house and make a 
terrible end of those trespassers! Could they but 
see him in the majesty of his power as he once threw 
Philomelides in Lesbos, then truly they would have 

[30] 


TELEMACHUS VISITS NESTOR 


little stomach for courting. But, dear youth, as 
thou hast asked me, I will tell thee what the old 
prophet Proteus in Egypt once told me of him. 
On my return voyage angry gods detained me for 
twenty days on an island at the mouth of the Nile, 
for I had carelessly forgotten to make the custom- 
ary offering of atonement. Our food was nearly 
gone, my companions lost courage, and I should 
perhaps have perished with them had a goddess not 
taken pity on me. Idothea, the lovely daughter 
of Proteus, looked upon us with compassion, and 
once when I had wandered far from the others, 
she came and spoke to me. Then I told her my 
plight, and begged her to tell me some means of 
gaining the favor of the heavenly powers to discern 
which of the gods was hindering my journey and how 
I might reach home through the endless leagues of 
ocean. 

“‘Gladly, oh stranger,’ said she, ‘will I tell thee 
of an unfailing means. Thou knowest that my 
father, the old sea god, Proteus, is omniscient, and 
if thou canst surprise him by some cunning scheme 
he might easily tell thee all that thou wishest to 
know.’ ‘Good,’ said I; ‘but tell me what means 
I can employ to ensnare him.’ ‘Listen,’ answered 
the goddess; ‘every day when the sun is at the ze- 
nith the god rises from the sea, and comes on shore 
to sleep in the cool grottoes. With him come also 
the seals to sun themselves upon the shore. There- 
fore, if thou wouldst approach him unseen thou must 
conceal thyself in the skin of a seal and take thy 

[31] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


place amongst the others. I will help thee. Come 
here early to-morrow morning with three picked 
companions, and I will furnish you all with glossy 
skins. When my father comes up, the first thing 
he does is to count his seals as a shepherd counts 
his sheep; then he lies down amongst them. As 
soon as thou seest that he has fallen asleep it is 
time to use force. You must all seize him and hold 
him fast, not letting go, no matter how he struggles 
to free himself. He will use all his arts of trans- 
formation to get away, now as fire, now as water, 
and now as some rapacious animal. But ye must 
not cease to contend with him until he shall have 
reassumed his proper form. Then loose the bonds, 
and let him tell thee what thou wishest to know.’ 

“As soon as Idothea had said this she disap- 
peared into the depths of the sea. I went to my 
ship and spent the night in anxious vigil, and in the 
morning I picked out three men of proven strength 
and bravery to accompany me in this wonderful 
adventure. We went to the appointed place, and 
behold! the nymph kept her word. She arose out 
of the sea with four fresh sealskins, enveloped us 
each in one of them, and showed us where to lie 
down. Friends, you cannot imagine our plight. 
The oily smell of the skins would certainly have 
overcome us had not Idothea rubbed sweet-smelling 
ambrosia upon them to smother the horrible odors. 
Thus unpleasantly masquerading we passed the 
whole morning, until at last, in the heat of the noon- 
day, the troop of seals rose out of the water, and 

[32] 


TELEMACHUS VISITS NESTOR 


after them came the gray god of the sea. He looked 
about, examined and counted his seals, ourselves 
with the rest, and then laid himself down in their 
midst. Very soon we sprang up with loud cries and 
held him down with all our strength. Everything 
transpired as his daughter had warned us. He sud- 
denly transformed himself into a lion to frighten 
us, but we were not to be thus outwitted and only 
held the tighter. Then he became a panther, then 
a dragon, and finally, a bristly boar. While we 
thought we were grasping the bristles he tried to 
escape us as water, and scarcely had we dammed 
up the water when he rose into the air in the form of 
a tree. At last the old magician became weary of 
these changes, resumed his true shape, and said: 
‘Son of Atreus, what mortal has discovered to thee 
the art of holding me — and what dost thou want 
of me?’ 

“I told him my perplexities. He bade me return 
to Egypt and there propitiate the offended gods 
with rich offerings. He promised that my return 
voyage should be successful. I asked one last 
question of the god : What had become of my friends, 
and had they all reached home safely? He then 
began a long story which caused me to weep bitter 
tears. He spoke of Ajax and his sad fate. He told 
me of my dear brother Agamemnon’s horrible 
death. My heart was broken; I no longer wished 
to live. But the venerable god comforted me and 
commanded me to hasten home to avenge this 
wrong. Finally I asked the fate of my dear friend 

[33] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


Ulysses and whether he still lived. Proteus 
answered: ‘Ulysses lives, but is held a prisoner far 
from here on an island, by the nymph Calypso. He 
weeps tears of home-sickness and longing, and would 
gladly intrust himself to the unknown waters, but 
he has no ship and no men, and the nymph who 
loves him will never let him go.’ Thus Proteus 
prophesied to me, then suddenly sank into the sea. 
I followed Proteus’ commands and arrived safely 
at home. Now thou knowest all that I can tell 
thee. Remain thou with me for a while, then I will 
send thee home with worthy gifts, — three splen- 
did horses and a cunningly carved chariot, — and 
in addition I will present thee with a beautiful gob- 
let in which thou canst make offerings to the gods, 
so that thou shalt always remember me.” 

Telemachus declined the invitation, for he could 
not desert his companions whom he had left in 
Pylos, anxiously awaiting his return. In the morn- 
ing the king had prepared for the two youths a 
bountiful farewell repast of freshly killed goats 
and lambs. Telemachus would scarcely have 
enjoyed this early meal if he had known 
what the wicked suitors at home were preparing 
for him. They learned with deep concern that 
Telemachus had really had the courage to under- 
take the journey. Who could tell but he might 
return with help from Nestor or Menelaus and put 
them all to death Until now no one had given the 
boy credit for much courage, but now — was it 
not as though the father’s spirit had been awak- 

[34] 


TELEMACHUS VISITS NESTOR 


ened in the son? Antinous, the most insolent of 
them all, cried: ‘‘No! we must not allow the youth 
to defy us 1 He must be crushed before he can harm 
us. Give me a ship and man it with twenty brave 
warriors. I will row out to meet him and waylay 
him in the straits between Ithaca and Samos. If I 
meet him he will never see this house again alive, 
and then all will be ours.” 

All applauded the wicked Antinous and con- 
ferred as to how they might most surely destroy 
the youth, and when all was arranged the ship rowed 
away to the appointed place to await Telemachus. 
Medon the herald had overheard the plot, and has- 
tened to acquaint Penelope with the sad news. 
Her heart was already heavy with anxiety, and at 
this fresh misfortune her knees began to tremble 
and she sank unconscious on the threshhold of her 
chamber. Her maidens wept over her, and at last 
tears sprang to the eyes of the beautiful queen. 
She moaned aloud and could not compose herself. 
At first she thought of sending for her father-in- 
law, Laertes; but the old man was as powerless as 
she. Then she considered other succor, but all 
was useless. At last to her oppressed heart came 
the comforting inspiration of calling upon a god for 
protection. She prayed fervently to Athene, and 
when she had finished she felt renewed strength 
and composure. She sank down upon her couch 
in a deep sleep. 

Athene heard her prayer, and desiring not to 
leave the good lady comfortless, sent her a pleas- 

[35] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


ant dream. Penelope’s sister appeared to the 
sleeper, and asked the cause of her grief. Penelope 
was comforted in telling her woes, and the dream 
figure put courage into her soul with the consoling 
words: “Be comforted, sister, and pluck these cow- 
ardly fears from thy heart. Thy son will return. 
He has a guide and companion such as many a one 
might wish for. Pallas Athene herself is with him, 
and she has compassion on him and on thee and has 
also sent me to tell thee this.” Penelope wished 
to ask other things, but the dream figure vanished. 
She then awoke, was comforted, and no longer 
bemoaned the fate of the two loved ones whom she 
had thought were lost. 


[36] 


Chapter III 


Calypso allows Ulysses to go home — Poseidon 
sends a storm — Ulysses is wrecked upon 
the Island of Scheria 

iENE was busy preparing Ulysses’ return. 
Hermes, messenger of the gods, bound on 



I JL the golden sandals which enabled him to 
soar like a bird through the air, took up his magic 
serpent staff with which he could both kill and re- 
store people to life, and flew swiftly away across 
the sea. He soon stood upon Calypso’s distant 
island, enchanted with the lovely dwelling so charm- 
ingly nestling among the trees. Singing birds had 
made their nests in the dark recesses of the foliage, 
and the entrance to the grotto was framed in vines 
from which hung bunches of purple grapes. Round 
about stretched rich meadows intersected by gleam- 
ing brooks, and many-colored flowers peeped out of 
the rich verdure. 

Hermes paused to admire the lovely spot, then 
entered the grotto to seek Ulysses. The poor fel- 
low who could And no peace of mind in this beau- 
tiful isle, and who was vexed by the advances of the 
goddess, used to go down every day and seat him- 
self beside the surf to gaze out over the dark waters 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


in the direction in which his beloved fatherland lay. 
The nymph, however, sat at her loom weaving her- 
self a garment with a golden shuttle and singing 
gayly at her work. She recognized Hermes at 
once and was surprised to see him. He delivered 
to her the strict command of Jupiter to release 
Ulysses, as the gods had determined upon his 
return. This frightened the goddess, and she began 
to complain of the jealousy and cruelty of the gods. 
She promised to obey, however, through fear of 
the anger and vengeance of Jupiter. 

In the meanwhile Hermes had been hospitably 
entertained, for even the gods regale one another, 
though they do not eat mortal food. Their food is 
called ambrosia and they drink a divine liquid which 
the poets call nectar. After feasting, Hermes 
repeated the message and left the island. 

When Calypso had spent her grief in a flood of 
tears she went out to seek Ulysses. She found him 
sitting pensively on the shore. “My dear friend,’’ 
she said, “thou must not pass thy life here in mel- 
ancholy and grieving. I will have compassion on 
thee and let thee go. But thou must build a craft 
for thyself. Go to the forest, select trees, cut and 
trim them with the axe which I shall give thee, and 
fashion for thyself a strong raft. I can give thee 
no rowers, but I will plentifully provide thee with 
food, drink, and clothes, and will give thee a gentle 
wind to bear thee out into the sea. If the gods 
are willing thou shalt soon reach thy dear native 
land in safety.” 

[38] 


ULYSSES GOES HOME 


Ulysses sprang up. Her words gave him a thrill 
of joyful surprise. He could scarcely believe his 
good fortune. “Swear to me,” he cried hastily, 
“that thou speakest the truth and art not contriv- 
ing fresh affliction for me!” The goddess smiled, 
and to please him swore the most terrible oath of 
the gods, by the earth, the heavens, and the river 
Styx, and now at last the hero believed her. 

The following morning he hastened into the 
forest, and after four days of incessant labor his 
raft was finished and furnished with mast, rudder, 
and yard-arms. Calypso supplied the sail and filled 
the raft with skins and baskets of sweet water, wine, 
and delicious food, and on the fifth day she accom- 
panied him to the beach and he joyfully embarked. 
A gentle breeze filled his sail and he steered boldly 
across the boundless waters, guided by the sun by 
day and the stars by night. He journeyed swiftly 
for seventeen days, happy in the thought that he 
was approaching nearer to his beloved wife and 
native land. But lo, on the eighteenth day, when in 
sight of the island of Corfu, Poseidon caught sight 
of the bold man and his anger blazed up anew. 
“Aha!” said he, “the gods have doubtless taken 
him under their protection while I have been away, 
but in spite of this he shall suffer disaster and 
sorrow enough before he reach the land which is 
appointed for his refuge.” 

The angry words had scarcely been spoken before 
dark clouds began to gather at his bidding. He 
dipped his trident into the sea and it was disturbed 

[39] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


to its depths. Then he called upon the winds to 
come out of their caves and strive together, and 
dark night descended upon the waters. Ulysses 
trembled. He was alone upon the broad ocean. 
Land had disappeared, and as far as the eye could 
see there were only the dark waves which rose in 
their might, then dashed upon him, carrying him 
first heavenwards, then down into the depths of 
an abyss. Clinging desperately to his raft, he was 
tossed to and fro. A terrific blast swept away 
mast and sail and then came a great wave, like a 
mountain, which broke over the raft and submerged 
it. Ulysses lost his hold, but when he arose he saw 
it floating near him and managed to climb upon it, 
thus escaping certain death. But the storm still 
raged and there seemed no hope of rescue. 

However, he was destined to be saved. Leuco- 
thea, the sea goddess, discovered him in the midst 
of the angry waves and took pity on him. She 
swung herself up out of the sea on to the raft and 
seated herself. ‘‘Poor man,’’ said she, “thou must 
surely have sorely offended Poseidon, but he shall 
not destroy thee. Thou shalt be cast on the shores 
of Scheria. Take this girdle and tie it about thee; 
then cast off thy heavy garments, leave thy float, 
and save thyself by swimming. The girdle will 
bear thee safely to the shore, but when thou art 
once there, do not fail to throw it behind thee into 
the sea.” 

With these words she disappeared in the waters. 
Ulysses was still in doubt, for he feared the vision 

[40] 


ULYSSES GOES HOME 


was a malicious deception of Poseidon’s. He would 
not leave the raft so long as it held together, but he 
kept the girdle to try its power in case of need. 

He did not have long to wait, for a sudden shower 
of water dashed the raft in pieces. The logs sep- 
arated and the poor sailor fell between them into 
the sea. It was now life or death. He swam toward 
the largest piece of the raft, caught hold of it, and 
swung himself astride the log like a horseman, 
holding fast by his knees. Riding thus, he drew off 
his heavy tunic and threw it into the sea, tied on the 
girdle, and sprang confidently into the water to 
try his luck. As he was struggling in the water 
Poseidon saw him and said: ‘‘This time thou mayst 
escape death, but I hope that thou wilt not soon 
forget the horrors of this day.” 

Poseidon departed and by degrees the wild waves 
subsided. The terrible storm had lasted two days 
and two nights, and in all this time poor Ulysses 
had had nothing to eat or drink. He kept on swim- 
ming, sustained by the divine girdle. He was 
again filled with hope and joy when he saw the waves 
subsiding and the rocky coast of Scheria (or Corfu) 
close before him. But he was not yet safe, for the 
surf kept dashing him back from the steep walls of 
rock. This was worse than his battle with the 
waves; and with torn hands he was obliged to swim 
nearly around the island before he could find a 
landing place. 

At length he came to a spot where a little island 
stream flowed into the sea. The beach was low 

[41] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


and it was protected from the winds. Ulysses 
took courage, and praying to the divinity of the 
stream he said: “Hear me, oh ruler, whoever thou 
art, and take pity on me! Thou seest I have es- 
caped Poseidon’s wrath, and now I put myself under 
thy protection.” 

The river god heard him, and Ulysses soon sank 
upon his knees on the green grass and kissed the 
blessed earth. But now his strength was spent and 
he sank into a state of deep unconsciousness. Voice 
and breath left him; he was utterly exhausted. 

As soon as he recovered himself he gratefully 
remembered Leucothea and her command. He 
arose, unbound the wet girdle, and with averted 
face cast it into the sea. Then fearfully and tim- 
idly he began to explore the island. Night was 
approaching and no one was to be seen. Naked as 
he was, where should he find shelter.^ It was damp 
and cold on the beach, and in the wood which he 
saw before him there might be savage animals. 
Still he walked on toward it and discovered a few 
wild olive trees whose thick boughs made a wel- 
come shelter against sun, rain, and wind. On the 
ground lay a great mass of dry leaves which he 
heaped together and then crept under, his body 
hidden by the foliage. A deep sleep fell upon him 
in his bed of leaves, and for a time his hardships 
were forgotten. 


[42] 


Chapter IV 

Nausicaa 


S CHERIA was inhabited by a peaceful people, 
who cared more for commerce and navi- 
gation than for agriculture and the chase. 
They had built a town near the harbor, and had 
dockyards where busy workmen were to be seen 
building ships. Order, morality, and prosperity 
reigned and the people were ruled by gentle King 
Alcinous who had a magnificent palace in the city, 
where the nobles gathered daily to offer sacrifice 
and to feast with their king. 

While the weary Ulysses was sleeping his friend 
Athene was planning a means of making him ac- 
quainted with the foremost people of the island. 
The king had a young and pretty daughter named 
Nausicaa, who was dreaming sweetly one morning 
when Athene appeared in her dreams in the form of 
one of her youthful companions and began to scold 
her. “Lazy girl! when wilt thou think of washing 
the fine garments which are lying soiled about 
the house Thou wilt soon be a bride, and what if 
thy garments are not in order Arise quickly! 
Let thy father provide thee with a cart and donkeys 
to take us to the washing place. I will go with thee, 

[43] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


and we will take our maidens and wash and dry 
so that father and mother shall be delighted with 
our industry.” 

Nausicaa, upon awaking, determined to obey 
the admonition. She begged her father for the 
cart and, when it was ready, filled it with the soiled 
garments. Her mother provided victuals and a 
skin of wine, and when all was ready the pretty 
washer maiden seated herself on the cart, took up 
the reins and whip, and drove out of the city, fol- 
lowed by her companions. The washing place was 
beside a clear stream whose waters filled little canals 
and basins which had been excavated for the pur- 
pose. The clothes were thrown into one of these 
basins, the maidens undressed and sprang into the 
water, where they trod the garments with their 
feet. After being thus cleansed the clothes were 
spread out to dry on a beach of clean pebbles by 
the side of the stream. 

The maidens then bathed, anointed themselves, 
with oil, and opened the baskets and wine skin to 
enjoy an out-of-door breakfast. Next they seated 
themselves in a circle. Nausicaa began to sing and 
the maidens to dance and amuse themselves play- 
ing ball. When they had had enough of the games 
they gathered up the garments, folded them neatly, 
and packed them away in the cart, harnessed the 
donkeys, and made ready to depart. Before she 
mounted, the sportive Nausicaa threw the ball 
once more toward one of her companions. But it 
fell into the river far away, making the frolicsome 

[44 1 


NAUSICAA 


girls clap their hands and shriek with laughter, 
which awoke the echoes along the shore. And 
behold Athene had so arranged that these gay 
sounds should awaken the snoring Ulysses. He 
raised himself, listening, rubbing his eyes and brush- 
ing the leaves from his hair and beard. 

“Those are human voices,” he thought; “but 
alas, what kind of people may they be.^ Perchance 
rough barbarians who will not understand my lan- 
guage and know nothing of the gods or of hospital- 
ity. But stay — are they not the voices of laughing 
maidens.^ I will come out and take a look at them.” 

He crawled out of the thicket, shook off the dry 
leaves, and as he was stark naked, broke off a thick 
bough with which to cover himself. Thus he ap- 
peared like some wild forest monster. The maidens, 
who saw him coming from a distance, were afraid, 
cried out, and ran away. But Nausicaa was an 
intrepid girl, and Athene secretly encouraged her. 
She stood still and quietly waited for the man to 
approach. 

He came nearer, but did not presume to embrace 
her knees after the manner of a petitioner, but made 
plea at a respectful distance. “Humbly I approach 
thee, goddess or virgin, for I know not who thou 
art,” said he. “Thy stature and [thy splendid 
form tell me that if a goddess thou must be Artemis. 
Art thou a mortal maiden, then are thy parents and 
thy brethren fortunate; for truly their hearts must 
leap within them to see thee in the dance. But 
happier than all others I count the man from whose 

[ 45 ] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


hands thy father shall accept the suitor’s gifts and 
who shall take thee to his house, a bride. Truly 
I have never seen a human creature so like a slender 
palm tree. Yesterday I was cast by the sea upon 
this coast. I know it not, and no one here knows 
me. I do not presume, noble maiden, to embrace 
thy knees, but I beg thee have compassion on me; 
for after unspeakable trials thou art the first per- 
son whom I have met. Show me the city where 
the men of this land live, and give me some rags to 
cover myself. May the gods reward thee a thou- 
sand times. May they give thee all that thy heart 
desires, a husband, a house, and blessed harmony 
of life. For certainly nothing is so desirable as 
that husband and wife shall live in peace and united 
in tender love.” 

This speech pleased pretty Nausicaa and she 
pitied the stranger. She told him her name and 
all about her father and mother and promised him 
hospitality. Then she recalled her maidens, com- 
manded them to conduct the guest to the bath and 
to refresh him with food and drink. But the man 
was too fearsome a sight. One pushed forward 
the other until they at last plucked up heart and 
led Ulysses to the river. Nausicaa sent him some 
of the freshly washed clothes and the remains of 
their oil. The maidens placed all these things 
beside the stream and withdrew while Ulysses made 
his toilet. 

The bath was very necessary, for he was^ cov- 
ered with mud from head to foot, but after it he was 

[46] 


NAUSICAA 


like one new born. Graced with the new garments 
he appeared in renewed youth amongst the maidens, 
who were astonished at his glowing countenance. 
He seemed to have grown taller and handsomer. 
His matted hair now fell in shining ringlets over his 
forehead and neck, and his whole appearance gave 
such an impression of nobility and charm that 
Nausicaa could not help a secret wish that he might 
remain in Scheria and take her to wife. 

The maidens placed before him what was left of 
the food and wine, and truly the poor man had 
fasted long enough. When he had eaten the com- 
pany prepared to return. Nausicaa mounted her 
cart, and the maidens followed her on foot. As long 
as the road led through the fields Ulysses accompan- 
ied them, but when they neared the city Nausicaa 
bade him wait in a poplar grove until she should 
reach home; then he was to follow and appear at 
her father’s house. 

Thus she wished to avoid gossip so that no one 
might say: ‘‘Ah, see what a stately stranger Nau- 
sicaa has picked out for herself. She wishes him 
for her husband. She can really not wait until 
she is wooed. Of course it is better to choose a 
stranger, for the noble youths among our own people 
are certainly not good enough for her.” “No, stran- 
ger, not thus shall they speak,” she added, blushing. 
“ I have myself often found fault with girls who have 
been seen with a man without the knowledge of their 
parents and before the nuptials were celebrated.” 

Nausicaa gave Ulysses one more direction. When 

[47] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


he entered the royal hall he was first to embrace 
the knees of the queen and to make his plea for pro- 
tection to her. If she favored him then he might 
hope to see his home again. Not until then was he 
to approach the king. 

Ulysses carefully noted all these directions and 
remained in the grove until he was sure the maidens 
had arrived at their destination. Meanwhile he 
prayed to his protector, Athene, that she might 
grant that he find pity and favor with the men of 
this unknown people. 


[48] 


Chapter V 


Ulysses visits the King of the Phceacians 



iHE sun had set and darkness had fallen 


when the hero set out for the city of the 


Phseacians. As soon as he came near the 


first houses, his friend Athene met him disguised as 
a young girl returning with a pitcher of water from 
the well. 

“Daughter, canst thou show me the way to the 
palace of Alcinous, thy king.^’’ Ulysses addressed 
her. “I am come from a distant country and am a 
stranger here.’’ 

“Very willingly, good father, will I show thee 
the house,” answered the friendly girl. “The king 
lives very near my father. Come with me and I 
will guide thee that thou needst not inquire of an- 
other. People are not overfriendly to strangers 


here.” 


Ulysses thanked the maiden and followed her 
unseen by anyone. He was astonished at the great 
market place and harbor, the large ships and high 
walls. When they had been walking for a while 
the girl stopped and said: “See, good father, here is 
the king’s house. Thou wilt find the princes at 
their meal. Walk boldly in and fear nothing, for 


[49] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


a bold front is always successful. But I must tell 
thee one thing more. When thou enterest thou 
shalt go straight to the queen, Arete. She is very 
wise and is honored far and wide above all women. 
The king also reverences her and she rules every- 
thing, judging even the men’s quarrels with wis- 
dom. She is greeted everywhere by old and young 
like a goddess. If she is gracious to thee, then 
mayest thou hope to return to thy native land.” 

With these words Athene left him, and Ulysses 
went into the courtyard of the castle and paused in 
amazement on the threshold of the house. Every- 
thing that he saw was very beautiful. The walls 
looked like bronze, the doorway like silver, and the 
the ring on the gate was of gold. At the back of the 
open hall were rows of seats disposed against the 
walls, on which sat the nobles at the banquet. Be- 
side them stood beautifully clothed youths holding 
torches to light the feast. Fifty maidens served in 
the palace, some of them grinding grain on the 
handmills, others embroidering or spinning; for the 
women of the Phaeacians were as famous for their 
wonderful weaving as the men were as navigators. 

When the hero entered the king’s hall it was 
already late and the company was about to break 
up. The guests were standing with their goblets 
in their hands ready to drink a last offering to Her- 
mes. Just then they saw a stranger cross the hall 
and kneel before the queen. All listened atten- 
tively to what he was about to say. He clasped 
Arete’s knees, as was the custom of supplicants, 

[50] 


ULYSSES VISITS THE KING 


and spoke: ‘‘O Arete, daughter of the immortal 
hero Rhexenor, I embrace thy knees and the king’s, 
thy husband’s, and all the guests. I am a man 
overwhelmed with misfortune. May the gods pros- 
per thee and give thee long life and to thy children 
great honor and wealth! Only help me to return to 
my home, for it is many years since I have seen my 
people.” 

With these words he arose and seated himself in 
the ashes beside the hearth, as was customary for 
one asking help. At first the spectators were 
dumb with surprise, but in a few moments an old 
man broke the silence. “Alcinous,” he said, “thou 
must not allow a stranger to sit amongst the ashes. 
Come, lead him to a couch and let the heralds mix 
wine for him as an offering to Jupiter, and let the 
servants bring the stranger food.” 

The king immediately arose, took Ulysses by the 
hand, and led him to a seat beside his own. What 
a contrast to the previous evening when the poor 
man, deprived of his clothes, dripping and exhausted 
by his struggle with the waves, had staggered on 
land and raked together a bed of leaves in which 
to warm himself. Now he was luxuriously feasting, 
by torchlight, in a magnificent hall. 

“Come,” cried the king to the herald, “mix an- 
other bowl of wine and fill the cups of the guests 
that we may drink once more to Jupiter, the protec- 
tor of those seeking aid.” 

The herald did the king’s bidding and all poured 
the libation to Jupiter on the ground, then drank 

[51] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


off the remainder, and arose from their seats. The 
king commanded them to come again the following 
day to discuss how they might assist the stranger 
to return to his home, unless — this had just oc- 
curred to him — he might be a god in disguise who 
took pleasure in mingling with mortals. 

Ulysses modestly denied this flattering sugges- 
tion. “No, indeed,” said he, “I am the most mis- 
erable and unfortunate of men. But now let me 
eat a little more, for unhappy as I am, hunger is 
stronger than my sorrows, and an empty stomach 
gives a mortal no peace. But to-morrow, noble 
lords, ye shall do to me even as the king hath said 
and send me home, since for many years I have 
been consumed with longing for my wife and home.” 

The princes listened to the stranger with respect, 
for his speech and noble mien betrayed the man 
of intellect and ability. When the guests had 
gone, Ulysses was left alone with the king and queen. 
Servants removed the remains of the feast, and now 
the queen, who had remained silent before the men, 
began to question her guest. She had been watch- 
ing him, half in admiration and half with distrust, 
for she recognized the garments which he wore, 
having woven them herself. “I must ask thee,” 
said she, “who thou art and whence thou comest. 
Who gave thee these garments ? Thou sayest 
that thou comest to us from across the sea.” 

“Ah, Queen,” answered Ulysses, “it is too long a 
story to tell thee all my history. Far out in the sea 
lies the isle Ogygia, where lives the beautiful and 

[52] 


ULYSSES VISITS THE KING 


powerful goddess Calypso. A frightful storm which 
destroyed my ship cast me on that shore, and for 
seven years the lovely goddess held me captive 
there. She promised me immortal youth if I would 
abide with her and be her husband, but she could 
not persuade me. At last she changed her mind 
and only twenty days ago released me, gave me rich 
gifts and a successful voyage until I came in sight 
of the blue hills of this isle. Then Poseidon’s wrath 
overtook me, and a terrible storm broke up my ship. 
Naked, I managed by constant swimming to reach 
these shores. Last night I passed miserably in a 
thicket, but a sweet sleep held me fast bound for 
nearly twenty hours. I did not awaken until 
afternoon; then I heard voices, and saw thy daughter 
and her maidens not far away. I approached her 
in my distress, and behold, I found a sensible and 
noble-minded maiden. She refreshed me with food 
and wine, bathed and anointed me, and gave me 
these garments; then bade me come hither.” 

“All that is very good,” said Alcinous, “but the 
naughty girl has neglected a part of her duty. She 
should have brought thee straight to us, and she 
was here long before thou earnest.” 

“She did indeed offer to conduct me hither,” said 
the hero, “but I did not consider it fitting and did 
not wish thee to misjudge me. Therefore I remained 
modestly behind, for we men are very suspicious 
creatures.” 

“I am not so hasty in my judgments,” inter- 
rupted Alcinous. “However, all things should be 

[S3] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


done in order, and I perceive that thou art an excel- 
lent man. If such a one as thou should request my 
daughter’s hand, I would gladly take him for a son- 
in-law. If thou wilt remain here I will give thee 
houses and lands, but Jupiter would not wish that 
I should force thee to stay with us. No, if thou so 
desirest I will despatch thee to-morrow on thy way. 
Our rowers shall take thee safely back to thy home, 
however far away it may be.” 

“O Father Jupiter,” cried Ulysses at these words, 
“let all come to pass as this noble man hath said.” 

And now the queen commanded the maids to pre- 
pare a bed with soft cushions and fine covers for the 
stranger in the hall. They went out with torches, 
and when all was in readiness called the stranger 
to his well-earned rest. 


[ 54 ] 


Chapter VI 

Ulysses among the Phceacians 


/^T daybreak King Alcinous and his guest 
j \ arose. They went to the market place 
X JL ^iid seated themselves upon two hewn 
stones, such as were ranged about for the princes 
when they were gathered together for conference. 
No one had yet arrived, but Athene, disguised as a 
herald, was already going from house to house invit- 
ing the chiefs to a counsel. They appeared in groups 
and occupied the seats, while the populace crowded 
about to catch a glimpse of the stranger. He stood 
among them like a god, for Athene had made him 
seem taller and his glances fierier, that he might 
awaken admiration and love in the Phaeacians. 
When they had all come together the king began to 
speak. 

‘‘Hear me,” he said, “ye noble lords of Phaeacia! 
This stranger here — I know not whether he comes to 
us from the east or from the west — implores us to 
speed him on his way. Let us quickly settle the 
matter, for never has anyone come to me with a 
plea which has not been granted. Then arise, 
youths, and assemble twenty-two of your number, 
launch a stanch ship, and provide all that is neces- 

[SSl 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


sary for the voyage. Then come to my palace and 
I will set food and drink before you. And ye, 
princes, grant me another favor. Follow me to my 
stately hall that we may once more entertain 
the stranger worthily. And that song may not 
be lacking for our friend, call the divine singer 
Demodocus.^’ 

The company separated to carry out the king’s 
commands, and when all was ready they repaired 
to the palace, which was filled with guests. Alcin- 
ous caused twelve sheep, eight swine, and two oxen 
to be brought from his stables, which the youths 
began to prepare, while the herald returned with 
the minstrel who was to entertain the guests. 

He was blind, but his mind was stored with splen- 
did tales which he could recite most eloquently, 
accompanying himself upon the harp. The herald 
led him gently by the arm into the midst of the com- 
pany, where he placed a chair for him near a pillar. 
He then hung the harp upon a nail and guided the 
blind man’s hand to the place. Next he placed a 
table before him with meat, brought the bread 
basket, mixed the wine for him, and waited 
upon the other guests likewise. As soon as the 
company had satisfied their appetites, the minstrel 
took down his harp and began to prelude; then his 
song rang out like unto distant cries of battle and 
clang of swords and thundering of hoofs. He sang 
of the heroic deeds of the Trojan war, and the song 
found an echo deep in the hearts of his Greek hearers. 
Then the lines changed, and he celebrated the prow- 

[56] 


ULYSSES AMONG PH^ACIANS 


ess of two heroes whose fame outshone all others — 
Achilles and Ulysses. 

It was like a sword-thrust to our hero. His 
heart was torn with memories. He pulled his mantle 
over his head and hid his face, that the Phaeacians 
might not see his tears. Alcinous, who sat beside 
him, heard his sobs and at the minstrel’s next pause 
tactfully said: “Friends, I think we have had enough 
of feasting and song. Let us go forth and practise 
some games, that our guest may see and admire 
the skill of our people.” 

The company at once arose and followed the king, 
the blind minstrel being guided by a faithful servant. 
The market place was full of life. The nobles seated 
themselves, the people stood round about, and the 
youths who were to show their skill in wrestling, box- 
ing, running, and throwing entered the great arena. 

First there was a race between three sons of the 
king, Laodamas, Halius, and Clytonseus, which was 
won by the latter. Then came the wrestlers, the 
strongest of whom was Euryalus. Next came jump- 
ing, then disk throwing, and at last boxing. In this 
dangerous sport the handsome Laodamas was the 
victor. 

“Listen, friends,” cried the bold young man; 
“let us inquire if our guest be not skilled in games. 
Truly he has a noble figure. See his powerful chest, 
his thighs, his arms, and his strong neck. His build 
proclaims the man of skill, and he is in the prime of 
his powers.” “It is a good idea! Go and challenge 
him,” answered Euryalus, the wrestler. 


[57] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


Laodamas followed the behest, but Ulysses de- 
clined. “Ah,” said he, “my misfortunes are nearer 
to my heart than feats of strength, and my only 
thought is of how I may quickly reach home. Ye 
do not know all that I have suffered.” 

“Very good, my friend,” mocked the hasty Eury- 
alus; “one can see that thou art not an expert. No 
warrior art thou, but perchance an agent on a mer- 
chant vessel, who ships the goods and reckons up the 
profits.” 

“That was an unseemly speech,” answered the 
noble Ulysses. “Truly the gods have distributed 
their gifts in various ways. Many a man of insig- 
nificant stature is distinguished for his intellect, 
while perhaps another with a godlike form is poor in 
good sense. Thus it is with thee. Thou art beau- 
tiful to look upon, but hast little wit. Truly, wert 
thou not so young a fool, thou hadst angered me 
with thine impertinent speech. No, believe me, I 
am no novice at boxing. I have measured myself 
with the bravest before calamity bowed me down; 
for I have suffered all that a man can, on the field of 
battle as well as in storms at sea. But even so, I 
will not leave thy challenge unanswered. Give me 
the disk.” 

He took the heaviest of the metal plates, swung 
it by the strap a few times* in a circle, and then cast 
it high in the air, so that it fell far beyond the marks 
of the other throwers. One of the spectators ran 
forward and put a stake in the place where the disk 
lay, and when he returned he cried aloud: “Hail 

[58] 


ULYSSES AMONG PH^ACIANS 


to thee, stranger. In this contest thou mayest be 
sure none shall equal thee.’’ 

“See if ye can throw as far, ye youths,” cried 
Ulysses. “And if anyone is anxious to contend 
with me, either in boxing, wrestling, or in running, 
let him come. Phaeacians, I am ready! Come who 
will, excepting Laodamas. He is my host, and it 
were unseemly to challenge him who hath fed and 
sheltered me. But I will not refuse any of the others, 
and truly I need not fear. I am expert in all feats 
of strength, but in spanning the bow I still have to 
find my master. Amongst a crowd of the enemy 
I can single out my man, and my arrow will lay him 
low. But one man excelled me when we lay before 
Troy, Philoctetes; but amongst all the rest I was 
the foremost. With the lance I aimed better than 
another with the arrow. In running, one of you 
could perhaps outdo me; for the stormy sea and 
long fasts have much weakened me.” 

The Phaeacians all were silent. Not one dared 
challenge the hero. Then the king began to speak. 
“Worthy stranger, we believe thy words, for thou 
dost not speak through love of boasting, but because 
the youth has bitterly offended thee. Listen to 
me, that thou mayest yet speak well of us at home. 
In boxing and wrestling we do not excel, but Jupi- 
ter has granted us to be fleet in the race above all 
peoples and masters upon the sea. We also love 
much feasting, harping, and the dance, beautiful 
garments and warm baths. Come then, ye who are 
skilled in the dance, show yourselves, that the 

[59] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


stranger may tell of your art. Let some one fetch 
Demodocus’ harp.” 

The young dancers took their places and began 
the dance with measured steps and wondrous leap- 
ings, while Ulysses admired their flying feet. The 
strains of the harp formed a lovely accorripaniment 
to the movements of the dancers, and the old min- 
strel soon struck up a comic song which compelled 
the listeners to break into shouts of laughter. When 
the choral dance had lasted a while, Laodamas and 
Halius danced alone, to the admiration of all. One 
threw a ball almost to the clouds, and the other, 
leaping, caught it ere his foot had touched the earth. 
Ulysses was delighted with the agility and grace of 
the youths and paid them compliments which 
delighted their father’s heart. And as he had deter- 
mined to dismiss the stranger royally, he proposed 
to the assembly that each of the twelve chiefs of 
the Phseacians should make the guest a present of 
gold, together with a flne embroidered robe. The 
impertinent Euryalus was obliged to beg the guest’s 
pardon and to offer him a propitiatory gift. 

All agreed to the king’s proposal, and the youth 
brought a brazen sword with a silver hilt and scab- 
bard of ivory as his offering. He approached 
Ulysses abashed, and with eyes cast down addressed 
him. “Be not angry, oh stranger. Let the winds 
scatter the offensive words which I have spoken. 
May the gods grant thee a speedy return to thy house 
and thy people, after thy long wanderings.” 

“My dear fellow,” answered Ulysses, “mayest 
[6o] 


ULYSSES AMONG PH^ACIANS 


thou also enjoy the favor of the gods. And mayest 
thou never regret the gift which thou hast offered 
me.’’ He hung the sword over his shoulder, and all 
irritation was forgotten. 

In the meanwhile evening had descended. Ser- 
vants brought the gifts to the market place, and they 
were carried into the palace. There also the princes 
gathered, taking their usual places in the hall. 
Alcinous requested the queen to have a warm bath 
prepared for their guest, while he selected the gifts 
which he intended to present to him. 

A great kettle of water was brought, the maids 
piled up wood and kindled a fire under it, while 
the queen herself brought in the costly presents and 
packed them deftly away in a chest, which Ulysses 
bound and tied with a cunning knot taught him 
by the powerful Circe. He then went out to the 
bath, luxuriating in the steaming tub. When he 
had dried himself, the maids anointed him with oil, 
and draped him with a magnificent tunic and cloak. 
Just as he was about to reenter the festal hall he 
felt soft hands upon his arm. It was the lovely 
Nausicaa, whom he had not seen since the previous 
day. She had learned of the preparations for his 
departure, and her heart desired to look once more 
upon the splendid man who had approached her 
with such dignity the day before. So she stole 
down the stairs and awaited him at the door. He 
came, a noble virility shining from his countenance, 
his bearing breathing dignity and power. 

“Hail to thee, oh guest,” she whispered. “When 

[6i] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


thou art again in thine home, think sometimes of 
the girl in Scheria to whom thou once didst owe 
thy life.’’ She looked down and could scarcely keep 
back the tears. 

The stranger answered: ‘‘If the gods will but grant 
me a safe return I shall remember thee and praise 
thy name like a goddess’ each day, for thou hast 
saved my life, gentle maiden.” 

Nausicaa went sorrowfully back to her chamber, 
while Ulysses entered the hall and took his seat. 
The servants brought roasted meat and began to fill 
the goblets’ of the guests from great pitchers of milk. 
A herald guided the venerable minstrel to his place. 
Ulysses beckoned to the herald, then cut a fat mor- 
sel from the piece of meat before him, saying: “Take 
this to Demodocus. Poor though I am, I should 
like to do him honor, for one should always respect 
the minstrels. The muse herself has taught them 
and showers her favors upon them.” Demodocus 
accepted the gift with pleasure. 

When all had appeased their hunger, Ulysses 
turned again to the minstrel and begged him, as 
he knew all the adventures of the Trojan war, to 
sing the one of the wooden horse with which Ulysses 
had deceived the Trojans. So the man sang the 
curious tale, never dreaming that the hero whose 
cunning he was celebrating was at his side. Dur- 
ing the recital the hero often sighed and wiped away 
a tear. Alcinous noticed his emotion and again 
tactfully bade the singer pause, saying: “Our guest 
has been listening in tears; a deep sorrow seems to 
[62] 


ULYSSES AMONG PH^ACIANS 


gnaw at his heart. Let the singer be silent, then, 
that all may be joyful. The stranger who cometh 
to us with confidence must be dear to us as a brother. 
And now tell us, friend, without evasion, what we 
would know of thee. Speak! What is thy name, 
who are thy parents, and where thy native land.^ 
For this we must know, if we would guide thee thither, 
which we shall gladly do, although an ancient oracle 
has warned us that jealous Poseidon will some- 
time sink our ship on its return from such a voyage. 
Tell us, too, where thou hast been and of the people 
thou hast met. Tell us all this and also why thou 
weepest while the minstrel sings of Troy.’’ 


[63] 


Chapter VII 

Ulysses tells his Story — The Lotus-Eaters^ 
Polyphemus y Circe y Scylluy and Chary bdis — 
T'he Visit to Hades 


T he company sat in silent expectation, gaz- 
ing intently at the stranger, who began as 
follows: “The land of the Phaeacians is 
indeed a delightful land, and I know no greater 
pleasure than to sit in the banquet hall, while her- 
alds move from table to table filling the cups, and 
the minstrel sings splendid songs of the heroic deeds 
of brave men. For harp and voice are the orna- 
ments of the feast. But ye ask me for my unhappy 
history. Where shall I begin the tale, for the im- 
mortal gods have heaped much misery upon me.^ 
Let my name come first, that ye may know me and 
keep me in remembrance. I am Ulysses, son of 
Laertes, well known to men through many exploits.” 

The Phseacians were transfixed with astonish- 
ment, and the old minstrel bemoaned the loss of 
his eyesight that he was unable to see the man whose 
heroic deeds he had so often sung. He, the most 
famous among all the Trojan warriors, had eaten 
and drunk with them, and was now going to tell 

[64] 


ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


them of all the wonderful deeds which he had done 
and the hardships he had suffered. 

“Yes, I am Ulysses,” continued the hero. “The 
sunny isle of Ithaca is my home. I will not speak of 
the unhappy war. When it was ended I turned with 
my comrades to Ismarus, the city of the Ciconians, 
destroyed it, slew the fleeing men, while we divided 
the women and other booty amongst us. I now 
counselled that we should hasten from the place, 
but my foolish comrades did not obey me. As 
long as they had enough plunder, wine, sheep, and 
goats, they caroused upon the shore and thus brought 
the first misfortune upon us. 

“The conquered Ciconians summoned their allies 
in the interior, who responded in great numbers, 
fell upon us, and horribly revenged themselves. 
The fierce battle at the ships began early in the morn- 
ing. At first we defied the overwhelming numbers 
of the enemy, but as the sun set we were obliged to 
give way. Each of my ships lost six men, and it was 
only with difficulty that I escaped in swift boats 
with the others. Happy in our escape we sailed 
toward the west, keeping near to the coast of Greece. 
Then a terrible storm arose, breaking the masts 
and tearing the sails. With difficulty we put to 
shore to mend them, and on the third morning 
when we set out with renewed hope, a fresh storm 
descended upon us from the heights of Malea and 
drove us far out into the open sea. 

“For nine days we drifted before the awful north 
wind, and on the tenth day were driven on the coast 

[65] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


of the lotus-eaters. They are an amiable people 
and most fortunate, for they possess a fruit called 
the lotus, which is their daily food and is sweeter 
than honey. Whoever eats of it forgets his home 
and desires to remain there forever. We landed to 
take on fresh water and the lotus did not fail in its 
effects. I had to drive my companions back to the 
ships, bind them with ropes, and throw them under 
the rowers’ benches, and if I had not put off again 
quickly, not a single man would have followed me. 

“We now rowed out again over the boundless 
sea and landed on a wooded island near the coast 
of Sicily, which was uninhabited except by count- 
less herds of goats roaming the lowlands. They were 
without fear, so that we had easy hunting, and pro- 
vided ourselves plentifully with game. When we 
had refreshed ourselves with food and sleep I was 
anxious to row across to the next island, which 
seemed to be very large and fruitful. We could hear 
voices there and see cattle climbing about the hills. 
It is the home of the giant race of Cyclops, a savage 
people who know nothing of agriculture, have no 
laws, nor fear gods nor men. I said to my compan- 
ions: ‘Remain here with your ships. I will row 
across in mine with twelve picked companions and 
examine the land.’ I embarked, taking with me a 
large skin of excellent wine, for I divined that I 
might fall in with savage people who could not be 
won by reason or fair words, and therefore I 
furnished myself with this sweet, beguiling drink. 

“On our arrival I carefully concealed my vessel 

[ 66 ] 


ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


in a hidden cave and landed with my people and 
my wine skin. Not far away I saw a tremendous 
cave in the rock surrounded by a wall of great 
stones and shaded by a row of gigantic firs and oaks. 
It was the dwelling of the most terrible of the 
giants, where he spent the night with his goats and 
sheep; for the care of his flocks was his sole occupa- 
tion. He was the son of Poseidon and his name was 
Polyphemus. Like all the Cyclops, he had a single 
but horrible eye in the middle of his forehead. His 
arms were powerful enough to move rocks, and he 
could sling granite blocks through the air like pebbles. 
He wandered about alone among the mountains, 
none of the other Cyclops holding intercourse with 
him. He was savage and delighted only in mischief 
and destructiveness. 

“I, unhappy man, not knowing this, went with 
my companions straight to the open cave and en- 
tered it. We did not find him there, as the sun had 
not yet gone down and he was still grazing his herds 
on distant hills. The stalls were full of lambs and 
young kids. There were baskets and tubs of cheese 
and milk; also curds in great vessels and milking 
pails. My companions wanted very much to fill a 
few baskets with cheese, drive away a number of 
lambs and kids, and quickly make away with them 
in the ships before the dread king of the cave should 
return. But I forbade this,, for I was too curious 
to see the man and hoped, besides, to receive a gift 
from him, as is the custom among hospitable people. 
But how mistaken I was! 


[67] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


“We seated ourselves in the cave, lighted a fire for 
an offering, and passed the time eating cheese until 
the Cyclops should come home. Toward evening he 
appeared with his whole herd before the mouth of the 
cave. We drew back in affright, and he did not see 
us at first. He bore on his shoulders a tremendous 
load of wood, which he dropped upon the ground with 
a clatter which made the rocks tremble and caused 
us to flee into the innermost recesses of the cave. 
He then drove the goats and sheep inside, and barred 
the entrance with a piece of rock that two and twenty 
wagons could not have moved from the spot. We 
were prisoners in the power of the monster. 

“We were able to watch him unobserved for a 
while as he seated himself comfortably on the 
ground to milk the animals, then poured the milk 
into tubs, and last stirred the fire. The flames 
leapt up and he discovered us huddled together in 
a corner. For a moment he stared, then thundered 
at us in a fearful voice: ‘Ho, strangers! Whence 
come ye.^ Are ye traders or robbers who roam the 
seas, not sparing human life.^’ 

“Our knees trembled at the sound of the mon- 
ster’s voice. However, I quickly recovered myself 
and answered boldly: ‘We are Greeks returning 
from Troy, cast upon this coast by storms. As we 
have been overtaken by misfortune we beseech thee 
to shelter us and to please the gods by sending us 
on our way with gifts. Honor the gods, excellent 
sir, for Jupiter is the avenger of all wrongs committed 
against the traveller.’ 

[ 68 ] 


ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


“‘Oho! Thou foolish stranger,’ roared the Cy- 
clops. ‘Thou seemest to know the Cyclops ill. 
Nobody here honors the gods, and we know naught 
of thy Jupiter, for we ourselves are much greater. 
But tell me, where didst thou land with thy vessel?’ 

“I perceived his cunning and determined that he 
should not outwit me. ‘My ship,’ said I aloud. 
‘Ah, had we it still we should not be here. The 
waves destroyed it, and had we not been able to 
swim, we should all have perished.’ 

“ Instead of answering, the cruel Cyclops stretched 
out both his arms, seized two of my companions, 
and dashed them upon the ground so that blood 
and brains spattered in all directions. He tore 
them apart and ate them. We shrieked aloud when 
we saw this horrid deed and prayed to Jupiter. 
But our lamentations did not affect the Cyclops. 
He drank a tub of milk and stretched himself out 
to sleep. 

“‘What shall I do?’ I said to myself when the 
monster began to snore. ‘Shall I plunge my sword 
into his heart before he awakens. But no! if I 
kill him, who shall open the door for us?’ No one 
but the giant himself would be able to move away 
the mighty stone. We should only be preparing 
for ourselves a miserable death by slow starvation. 
We needed to invent some better plan, and so we 
awaited the break of day in fear and uncertainty. 

“With the dawn the Cyclops awoke and went 
about his usual business. He put fresh wood on 
the fire, milked his herd, and put the nurslings to 

[69] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


suck. Then he again seized two of my dear com- 
panions and killed and ate them as he had done the 
others. Next, he pushed back the stone, drove out 
the flocks, and deftly rolled the great rock back in 
its place. 

“Thus we were again imprisoned for the whole 
day. I now conceived a plan to avenge our lost 
comrades and to free ourselves — I would put out 
his great eye with a red-hot stake! I found just 
the piece for the purpose. It was the giant’s own 
club of green olivewood, as long and as thick as a 
mast. I hewed off a piece from the end, my com- 
panions helped to smooth it, and I sharpened the point 
and hardened it in the glowing coals. When my 
weapon was ready I carefully concealed it under 
the pile of straw on the ground. Hereupon we drew 
lots to find out which of my companions should 
help me thrust the stake into the eye of the sleep- 
ing giant, and we fearfully awaited his return. At 
last he came, driving in his flocks, and this time 
he left none of the animals outside, either because 
he was suspicious of us or because a god had so 
decreed. He set up the great stone, milked his 
sheep and goats, ate two more of my poor compan- 
ions, and put fresh wood on the fire. I now brought 
out the wine skin and went boldly up to him. 

“‘See, Cyclops,’ said I, filling a jug; ‘here is some- 
thing to drink; try it. Wine tastes good after 
human flesh. Take it that thou mayest see what 
good drink we had upon our lost vessel.’ He took 
the jug and drank. How delighted he was! He 

[70] 


ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


emptied the vessel and said, smiling: ‘Fill again 
from thy wine skin and tell me thy name, that I 
may make thee a gift. What a delicious draught! 
We have wine here, but compared with thine it is 
but water. Do but give me more.’ 

“ I filled his jug three times and he gulped it down 
eagerly. I soon saw with delight that his senses 
were becoming clouded. Then an excellent idea 
occurred to me. ‘Thou wouldst know my name,’ 
said 1. ‘My name is Nobody. My father and 
mother call me Nobody and so do all people.’ 

“‘Good,’ said he. ‘Then Nobody shall be the 
last one I shall devour. Take that as thy guest 
gift from me.’ 

“With these words he fell upon his back over- 
powered by sleep. He tossed about until deep snores 
showed that he had at last lost consciousness. 
Our time had come! I quickly drew forth the 
stake, plunged the end into the fire, turned it about 
until it was glowing, and then called upon my com- 
panions to assist me. A god put courage into our 
hearts. We all took hold and in an instant had 
plunged the fiery pole into the sleeper’s great eye. 
As when a smith dips glowing iron into cold water, 
thus hissed the Cyclops’ eye as the torch pene- 
trated it. But we pushed it in the deeper and turned 
it round and round until the blood gushed out and 
flowed over forehead and cheeks. With a horrible 
roar the giant jumped up and we all fled into the 
corners of the cave. Bewildered by the pain, he 
pulled the glowing brand from his eye and threw it 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


against the rocky wall, raving like a crazy man. 
The other Cyclops were aroused by his desperate 
cries and gathered about the cave. 

“‘What has happened to thee, Polyphemus,’ 
they cried, ‘to make thee roar thus? Has someone 
stolen thy cattle or a murderer attacked thee?’ 

“‘Woe is me!’ roared the Cyclops. ‘Nobody has 
craftily throttled me. Nobody has attacked me.’ 

“‘Well, if nobody is attacking thee we are of 
no use. We can do naught against inward pains; 
for those thou must call on thy father Poseidon.’ 
Speaking thus they went away. 

“How my heart laughed for joy that my false 
name had fooled them. But the greatest danger 
lay still before us. We might escape the fingers 
of the blind giant in the recesses of the cave, but he 
now seated himself before the entrance, rolled back 
the stone halfway, and stretched out his hands 
to catch us should we try to steal out among the 
sheep and goats. 

“However, I conceived a plan to outwit him in 
this also. Among the goats were powerful animals, 
with very thick wool. I put three of them side by 
side and bound them together with withes. The 
middle one carried one of my companions under 
his body bound securely, while the other two pro- 
tected him on either side. A great woolly one, 
king of all, I kept back for myself. Thus prepared, 
we awaited the morning. 

“At last the flock set out and crowded past their 
waiting master, who carefully felt of each woolly 

172] 


HE BLINDING OF POLYPHEMUS 










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ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


back to see if one of us should not be riding on it. 
It never occurred to him that we might be hanging 
underneath. At length the first three came up, 
carrying their man successfully past, then the sec- 
ond, and so on. I was last. I crawled underneath, 
nestling into the thick wool as deeply as I could 
with hands and feet. Then the animal struggled 
forward as fast as he was able with his unaccustomed 
burden, while I held on desperately by his curly 
wool. The Cyclops recognized his favorite at once 
in caressing him, and spoke sadly to him. ‘Dear 
little one, art thou the last to-day to leave the cave.^ 
Thou, who art always the first to trot so gayly at 
the head of all the others. Art perchance sad also, 
and dost feel sorry for thy master’s eye, which the 
villain Nobody has put out? But only wait, he 
shall not escape his deserts. If thou couldst but 
speak, my little one, thou wouldst tell me at once 
where the wretch is hiding. Then shouldst thou 
see how his blood and marrow would splash about 
the cave. That would be revenge sweet to my 
heart.’ 

“Thus spake the Cyclops and released the goat. 
I let him carry me but a short distance, then let go, 
jumped up, and released my companions, of whom, 
alas! but six alone were left. Our rescuers we 
quietly drove before us, taking them as a thank 
offering. The Cyclops carefully closed his door 
again and whistled for his flock. We laughed in 
our hearts, and slunk quickly away with the stolen 
animals to our ship and put off. We rowed as fast 

[73] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


as we could, and when the boat was as far from land 
as a man’s voice will carry, it occurred to me to 
shout a mocking farewell to the monster. 

‘‘‘Ho, Cyclops! Take notice that thou hast 
entertained no ordinary mortal. In truth thou 
hast not eaten my friends for nothing. Thou art 
repaid at last for thine inhuman crimes.’ 

“How enraged he was. He tore off a piece of 
rock and cast it in the direction from which the voice 
had come. He aimed well, for it fell into the water 
close beside our vessel, so that we rocked in the 
trough of the sea. The waves nearly beat us back 
to shore again, but I urged on my men and they 
regained the high seas. 

“I could still see the giant feeling of his bloody 
forehead, and could not resist calling again, although 
my men begged me to desist. ‘Listen once more, 
Cyclops. If thou art asked who hath so shame- 
fully blinded thee, know that it was Ulysses, son of 
Laertes 1 ’ 

“‘Cursed guest!’ sputtered the furious Cyclops. 
‘Thus hath the prophecy been fulfilled! I have 
heard thy name and have always feared a great 
giant of superhuman powers. And now that it 
should be such a midget — such a tiny weakling 
who has outwitted me! Woe is me! But listen, 
Ulysses,’ he called directly afterward; ‘come back 
and let us make peace. I will entertain thee roy- 
ally and pray Poseidon, my father, that he grant 
thee safe conduct. He will certainly restore my 
eye; then all shall be forgiven thee.’ 

[74] 


ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


“‘HaP I shouted back. ‘Would that I could 
but send thee so certainly to Hades that neither 
Poseidon nor any god could replace thine eyeP 
And now I heard him praying loudly to his father 
to send misfortunes on my head. Alas, the god 
heard him only too well. 

In the meanwhile we kept on rowing, but were 
still in danger, for suddenly another rock came fly- 
ing and splashed like the first one into the sea close 
to our boat. At last after hard rowing we reached 
our little island and divided our booty with our com- 
panions. Our friends had given us up for lost and 
had been sitting on the shore day and night, mourn- 
ing for us. They gave me the big goat, which had 
carried me out of the cave, for my share. I immedi- 
ately sacrificed him to Jupiter, and we ate and drank 
joyfully together. When the sun sank into the sea 
we laid down on the beach to sleep. 

“When we had recovered from our fright and 
had refreshed ourselves with food and drink, we 
launched our boats and put out to sea. We trav- 
elled until we reached an island of peculiar for- 
mation. It floated about on the water and was 
surrounded by a wall of brass. It was the famous isle 
where lives .dEolus, the king of the winds. The gods 
have given him charge over all the winds, that he 
may cause them to blow or to cease at his will. 

“ I was hospitably received and delightfully enter- 
tained there for a whole month. In the palace lived 
the king’s six sons with their beautiful wives. I had 
to tell them all about Troy and all that had hap- 

[75] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


pened to me in my unfortunate journey. And when 
I begged for safe conduct, .^olus gave me a present 
which would have made me supremely happy had 
it not been for the foolishness of my companions. 
He confined all the winds in a leather bag, binding it 
securely with a silver rope. Thus I was fitted out 
so that I might make use of the winds should the 
vengeful Poseidon again lead me from my course. 
I laid the bag in the bottom of the ship without 
saying anything to my companions of its contents, 
and we sailed away with a gentle wind from ^Eolus’ 
isle and crossed almost the whole Mediterranean 
without accident, sailing nine days and nights, 
when suddenly on the tenth evening the shores of 
my native island loomed out of the darkness. Yes, 
it was really old Ithaca 1 I saw the watch-fires, the 
end of my wanderings had come. And now, weary 
as I was, sweet sleep overcame me, for I had labored 
at the mast day and night in order to reach home 
safely and quickly. 

“While I slept my companions began to talk of our 
return, to recall all that they had undergone, and to 
complain that they were returning poor, in spite of 
it all. They looked at me enviously, at my rich 
booty from Troy, and the number of my guest 
gifts. ‘ Everywhere that he goes,’ they said, ‘ he 
is honored and receives gifts, but we get nothing. 
What can he have hidden in that bag.? .^olus has 
certainly given him a costly present of gold or 
silver.’ 

“Curiosity incited them to examine the bag, which 

[76] 


ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


the king had bound up so tightly for good reasons. 
They had scarcely loosened the cord when a furious 
east wind broke loose, which drove us backward in 
the direction we had just come. We wretched 
ones, who had hoped to land on Ithaca in a few 
hours, found ourselves once more on iEolus’ isle. 
We were exhausted on landing, and after taking the 
food and drink I set out, with one of my men and the 
herald, for iEolus’ palace. There I found the fam- 
ily assembled at table, and all were astonished at 
my reappearance. I told them my story and begged 
for help once more. But the king cried in a ter- 
rible voice: ‘Unhappy one, fly from my house. 
Far be it from me to shelter a man who is thus 
pursued by the anger of the gods.’ 

“Sorrowfully I rejoined my companions and with 
heavy hearts we put out on the treacherous sea. 
We rowed continuously for six days, and at last 
on the seventh we saw the coast of the Laestrygones. 
We found a sheltered harbor where we made fast 
our ships. Then I mounted a hill to see if I could 
discover traces of people. In the distance I saw 
smoke rising and sent two of my men with a her- 
ald to explore the country. They entered a wood 
where they found wagon tracks that led to a town, 
and there they met a maiden, the buxom daughter 
of the king, Antiphates, just going to the well to 
draw water. She answered their inquiries by point- 
ing out her father’s lofty dwelling. But when they 
entered the great palace they were terrified to 
behold the queen, a giantess, tall as a tree, who at 

[77] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


once called her husband, an uncouth barbarian of 
gigantic stature. Without a word, like the Cyclops 
he seized one of them for his evening meal. The 
other two fled in horror to the ships. We saw them 
running, and soon a crowd of giants, summoned by 
the king’s roars, started in pursuit. While we 
were trying to loose the ships tremendous stones 
began to hurtle through the air upon us, dashing 
men and ships in pieces. I had tied my ship behind 
a cliff where it was safe from the stones. I quickly 
cut the ropes, called to my remaining companions, 
and we rowed away as fast as we could. With 
horror we saw the Laestrygones spearing our poor 
comrades to carry them home to their cruel meal. 

“The current now carried us to the island of 
JEddSL. We stole into a sheltering bay and rested 
for two days and nights, weak from hunger and 
overwork. But on the third day when rosy-fingered 
Eos began to paint the sky, I seized lance and sword 
and climbed to the top of the rock. The gods took 
pity on me and sent a great stag with branching 
antlers across my path. Like lightning I planted 
my spear in its side, and the animal sank in the dust 
with a cry. Bracing my foot against its side I drew 
out my spear, bound its feet together, threw the ani- 
mal over my shoulder and, staggering under the 
unwonted burden, returned with it to the ship. 

“‘Come friends,’ I cried ‘we shall not descend 
to the kingdom of Hades until our day of doom 
dawns. As long as there is food and drink let us 
be merry and refresh our weary bodies.’ 

[78] 


ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


“The sight of the stately animal put new life 
into my fainting comrades. They sprang up, washed 
their hands, and began to prepare the meat. We sat 
down to an excellent evening repast and our cour- 
age returned. A sweet sleep refreshed us, and at 
daybreak we determined to set out and see whom 
we could find on the island. But my companions 
grew panic-stricken when they thought of the 
Cyclops and the cannibal Laestrygones. ‘Very well,’ 
I said, ‘divide yourselves into two parties. I will 
lead one and the hero Eurylochus shall lead the 
other.’ We then drew lots from a brass helmet to 
see who should explore and who should remain to 
guard the ship. The lot fell to the brave Eurylo- 
chus and he hastened to set out with twenty-two 
men. 

“In a distant valley they found the stately pal- 
ace of Circe, the Sun-god’s daughter, a sorceress 
skilled in all the arts. Her dwelling was surrounded 
by lions and wolves, which were men transformed 
into animals by her magic. They were unfortunates 
who had been cast upon her coast by storms. Their 
human reason had not been taken from them, so 
that they did not attack the approaching men, but 
came up to them like friendly dogs. Inside the 
palace sat the beautiful Circe at her loom, singing. 
‘Listen,’ said one of the men, ‘what lovely singing. 
Let us go in.’ The goddess who had overheard 
the words, left her work and opened the door. 
‘Come in, strangers,’ she said sweetly, ‘that I may 
entertain ye.’ The friends obeyed and went inside. 

[79] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


Only the cautious Eurylochus remained without and 
hid himself from the sorceress as though he divined 
mischief. 

“The strangers were invited to sit on soft cush- 
ioned chairs and Circe passed food and mixed sweet 
wine for them, but in the wine she secretly put evil 
herbs, and when the poor fellows had drunk of the 
mixture Circe touched them all with her magic 
wand and in an instant they were changed into grunt- 
ing swine. She then drove them out and put them 
into pens and laughingly shut them in. Euryl- 
ochus, horrified, saw all this from his hiding place, 
then hastened away to bring me the news. In 
broken words he related the horrible fate of our 
friends. 

“I immediately sprang up. ‘Guide me thither,’ 
I cried, impatiently. ‘ I will avenge the unfortunates 
if I cannot save them.’ But he fell at my feet and 
begged me with tears not to sacrifice myself. ‘Let 
us flee from the cursed island,’ he cried, ‘that we, 
at least, may escape the same awful fate.’ 

“‘Stay thou,’ I answered scornfully, ‘and eat and 
drink thy fill here by the shore, but I must needs 
go.’ With these words I hurried along the beach 
until I saw the dwelling of Circe in the distance. 
All at once a shining youth came toward me. I 
recognized Hermes by his staff and his glorious 
appearance. 

“‘Friend,’ said he, taking me by the hand, why 
art thou wandering alone among these wild hills 
Dost thou know what awaits thee? Thy friends 
[8o] 


ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


are shut up in Circe’s pens transformed into swine. 
Dost intend to release them.^ Poor man, thou wilt 
scarcely succeed. I fear she will but pen thee up 
with the rest.’ I did not know what to answer, 
and could only gaze perplexed at the youthful god. 

“‘Listen,’ he said. ‘I wish thee well and I can 
help thee. Therefore let me warn thee to beware 
of Circe’s tricks. On thy arrival she will mix for 
thee a sweet wine with a certain poison which puts 
all who partake of it in her power. But here is the 
antidote. Pour it secretly into the wine before thou 
drinkest, and her herbs cannot harm thee. When 
thou hast partaken of the mixture she will touch 
thee with her magic wand in the vain endeavor to 
transform thee. Take advantage of this moment 
to overcome her. Fall upon her with drawn sword 
as though thou wouldst pierce her, and thou shalt 
see her supplicating for mercy at thy feet. Grant 
what she asks, but let her swear a solemn oath that 
she will not further harm thee. Then she shall be 
appeased, and by degrees, in confidential talk, thou 
shalt persuade her to release thy friends also.’ 

“The god gave me the wholesome herb, then has- 
tened back to high Olympus. I gazed gratefully 
after him, carefully stowed away his gift, and com- 
mitted his advice to memory. Deep in thought I 
suddenly found myself at Circe’s dwelling and heard 
the heavenly singing. I called, and the goddess 
immediately appeared. She led me to the silver- 
mounted seat and went to prepare the wine in 
which she mixed her magic herbs. As soon as she 

[8i] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


handed me the cup, I quickly poured Hermes’ 
antidote into it, and drank off the potion without 
fear. 

“At once she pointed the magic wand at my head 
saying: ‘Now, my little beast, follow thy friends 
into the pig-pen.’ I pushed back my chair, sprang 
from behind the table, and fell upon the false one 
with drawn sword. She shrieked and threw her- 
self upon the ground to clasp my knees. ‘Who art 
thou and whence comest thou who art the first to 
withstand my magic Never has a mortal resisted 
its power. Art thou perhaps the crafty Ulysses 
who, Hermes once told me, should visit me on his 
long wanderings and set at naught my sorcery.^ 
But look not so fiercely upon me. Put up thy sword. 
Sit down peaceably beside me that we may hold 
friendly converse.’ 

“‘O goddess,’ I answered, ‘ how can I trust one 
who has robbed me of my friends ? I know not what 
schemes thou entertainest against me. If I am to 
trust thee, swear to me the great oath of the gods 
that thou wilt not practise thine arts against me, 
sleeping nor waking.’ 

“ She at once complied and I was reassured. And 
now she drew me down upon her couch and fondled 
me, while her maidens, beautiful daughters of the 
river and forest gods, prepared a delicious repast 
for me and one of them heated water for the bath. 
When it was ready she washed my head and shoul- 
ders herself and clothed me in rich garments. Then 
she led me to a table covered with delicacies. I did 
[82] 


ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


not partake, but leant my head upon my hand and 
sank into sorrowful musings. Circe urged me in 
vain to eat. ‘O goddess,’ I sighed, ‘how can I enjoy 
a feast in the house where my unhappy compan- 
ions are prisoners.^ Until I see them freed from the 
terrible enchantment, thou wilt exert thyself in 
vain to cheer me with thy embraces and thine 
entertainment.’ 

“The goddess was touched. She went out into 
the pens, freed the swine, and anointed each one 
with a healing salve. And, oh joy! the animals 
stood up, the bristly hide and the long snouts dis- 
appeared, and my companions stood before me, 
younger and handsomer than before. They shouted 
for joy and fell at our feet. Then their beautiful 
liberator led them into the banquet hall. 

“‘Listen, Ulysses,’ said Circe to me, ‘remain with 
me for a while and rest after all the hardships thou 
hast undergone. Go and beach thy ship upon the 
sands. Hide thy weapons and goods in the thicket, 
and then bring all thy worthy comrades here that I 
may entertain them.’ 

“Confiding in the sacred oath of the goddess I 
set out at once to fetch my companions. They 
rejoiced to see me returning in safety, and came 
running to meet me like young foals to their mother. 
I related my adventure, and commanded them to 
draw the ship on the beach and to bury the tools 
and follow me to the palace where they might rest 
and feast to their heart’s content. 

“Then arose the prudent Eurylochus, still half- 

[83] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


paralyzed with fear, and said to them: ‘Poor fel- 
lows, where are we going? The crafty sorceress 
will soon have transformed us all into swine, wolves, 
or lions. Did not Ulysses lead us into the Cyclops’ 
cave. Let us stay here, and let him go where he 
will.’ I grew crimson with anger on hearing him 
speak thus. I had already drawn my sword to 
cut off his head when my companions prevented 
me. ‘Let him go,’ said they; ‘we will all follow 
thee.’ 

“ I then guided them to Circe’s palace, and even 
Eurylochus followed us at a distance. How happy 
they all were to find their companions, in fine gar- 
ments, sitting at the festive board. They fell upon 
one another’s necks, and even Circe was touched 
at the sight. She said to us: ‘Dear comrades, stay 
with me until ye shall have forgotten all your 
troubles and regained your old-time courage.’ 

“Thankfully we accepted her invitation, and day 
by day we feasted and drank. But at length, when 
a year had gone by, the longing for home awakened 
in our breasts, and my companions urged me to think 
of our native land. All day I mused upon their 
demand, and as darkness fell I clasped the knees of 
the goddess and besought her to send us back to our 
homes. She answered graciously that she did not 
wish to detain me against my will, but that I must 
first accomplish a mission for her before I could 
take the direct path homewards. I gave my prom- 
ise and heard with horror the following commis- 
sion: ‘I wish to send thee to the underworld to 

[84] 


ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


inquire of the spirit of old Tiresias, who conferred 
upon Persephone, Queen of Hades, alone of all the 
shades, power to wander there a living person, 
while the other souls are only floating shadows/ 

“I wrung my hands and groaned. Weeping I 
sat beside the goddess and cried: ‘Who shall show 
me the way thither? Never did a living man 
descend into Hades, and nevermore shall a living 
man return from thence into the light.’ 

“‘Fear not for thy life, nor for a guide,Vshe con- 
tinued. ‘Spread thy sail and let the north wind 
guide thee.’ She then gave me full directions as 
to all that I should see and do upon this visit to the 
lower regions. 

“As she ended dawn was gilding the morning 
sky. Sorrowfully I arose and went to arouse my 
companions and advise them of our speedy depart- 
ure. We went down to the ship with heavy hearts. 
There we found the sacrificial sheep, which I was 
to carry with me, bound and ready; a black male 
sheep and a female. Circe had also provided flour, 
wine, and honey. We launched the ship, raised 
the mast, and reluctantly embarked. A favorable 
wind bore us straight toward the ends of the 
earth. 

“We reached the shores of the Cimmerians, 
where the sun no longer sheds its light. There we 
beached our ship, took the sacrificial gifts, and 
descended to the place which Circe had shown me. 
We found all as she had foretold. I now began to 
dig a pit with my sword, an ell square, and into it 

[85] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


I poured an offering for the dead as I had been in- 
structed; first of honey and milk, then of sweet 
wine, and at last of water, strewing white flour 
over all. Then the two sheep were handed me, and 
I cut their throats with my sword so that the dark 
blood ran into the pit. Immediately the departed 
souls floated up in crowds from the lower world 
and pressed upon me. But I held them back with 
my sword, and commanded my companions to burn 
the sheep which had been skinned meanwhile. 
While the offering was being consumed we prayed 
to all the gods of the lower world, and I did not 
forget to make promises to them and to Tiresias, 
provided that I should reach Ithaca in safety. 

“ I gazed upon the approaching shades with silent 
awe. I saw armed men with deep wounds, old 
dames and blooming maidens, careworn old men and 
vigorous youths. They crowded about the pit 
on all sides with horrible cries, and I had hard work 
to keep them from the blood with my sword. 

“The spirits seemed speechless except Tiresias. 
He bade me turn away the sharp sword, that he 
might drink of the blood and prophesy of my fate. 
When he had drunk he leaned upon his golden 
staff and began: ‘Noble Ulysses, thou art anxious 
to return to thy home, but one of the gods will put 
difficulties in thy way. Dost thou not know how 
deeply thou didst offend Poseidon in blinding the 
eye of his son.^ Still all may be well with thee if 
only thou layest not thine hands upon the steers 
of Helios upon the island of Thrinakia. If thou 
[ 86 ] 



NVOCATION OF THE SHADES IN HADES 


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V 


ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


shouldst kill one of them thou mayest scarcely 
expect to be saved, and if thou shouldst ever see 
thy native land again, it would only be after many 
years of hardship and without any of thy com- 
panions. Others shall feast upon thy substance, 
woo thy spouse, and seek to lay deadly traps for 
thy son. But at last a divinity shall take pity on 
thee that thou mayest slay the presumptuous guests 
in thy palace. The deed will compel thee to leave 
thine ancestral home and to settle far inland. Then 
let it be a token for thee that, when on thy pilgrim- 
age with thine oar upon thy shoulder, thou shalt 
meet a man who shall call the oar a shovel, that it 
is the place which the gods have set apart for the 
haven of thine old age. Far from the sea, death 
shall come gently upon thee.’ 

“‘So that is to be my fate, O Tiresias,’ I said. 
‘ But tell me, do I not see my old mother amongst 
the spirits.^ She deigns not to speak to her son, nor 
looks into my face. What shall I do to make her 
know me.^’ 

“‘If thou wouldst question any of these spirits, 
let them drink of the blood,’ answered Tiresias; 
‘then mind and speech shall return to them.’ 

“ I waited until my mother should approach, and 
as soon as she had drunk she recognized me with 
joy and astonishment. I recounted to her all my 
sufferings and questioned her in what manner she 
had died and how my father, wife, and dear son 
at home were faring. She told me that all were 
alive and longed for me every day, that my father, 

[87] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


grown weak with age, lived in the palace no longer, 
but cultivated his vineyards in the country. 

“She departed and in her place came other women, 
wives of famous heroes I had known. They, too, 
drank of the blood and told me of their fate. My 
heart swelled as I beheld the spirits of dear friends 
floating near who had once been my companions 
before Troy — Agamemnon, Achilles, Patroclus, and 
the excellent Ajax, all of whom death had over- 
taken before they saw their native land again. I 
was most astonished to see Agamemnon here. I 
questioned him and, lamenting, he told me his sad 
fate. He inquired about his living son, Orestes, but 
alas, I could tell him nothing of the Greeks. But I 
was able to tell Achilles of many glorious deeds 
done by his son Neoptolemus, of whose bravery in 
war I had often been witness after his father’s death. 
Even in the pale world of shades Achilles rejoiced 
in his son’s valor, and floated proudly down to the 
fields of asphodel where dwell the spirits of brave 
heroes. 

“I saw also the heroes of ancient times. Minos, 
the wise ruler and lawgiver of Crete, was even now 
holding judgment over the souls of the dead in 
Hades; and Orion, the great hunter, with his mighty 
bow drove innumerable game before him. Tityus, 
that gigantic son of earth, who had once dared to 
dishonor the divine Leto, mother of Apollo and Arte- 
mis, lay fast bound upon the ground in punishment, 
two vultures on either side tearing at his entrails 
which ever grew again and were anew destroyed. 

[ 88 ] 


ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


Not less terrible was the penalty of Sisyphus, a king 
who had practised many cruelties during his life- 
time. He was obliged to push a heavy block of 
marble up a steep hill, and as often as he had nearly 
reached the top it would glide from his hands and 
roll thundering down to the bottom of the valley. 
Then, bathed in cold perspiration and in a cloud of 
dust, he would begin the difficult task over again. 

“I saw Tantalus also, that celebrated king whom 
Jupiter allowed to sit at his own table and feast 
with the gods. His vain heart was unworthy of 
the honor. He misused their confidence and 
betrayed their secrets; and for this he was under- 
going a terrible martyrdom in Hades. A burning 
thirst consumes him continually, and though he 
stands up to his throat in water, and delicious pear, 
fig, and apple trees hang their sweet fruits above 
his head, he can never satisfy his vehement desires; 
for as often as he bends down to the water the pool 
suddenly dries up, and as often as he raises his 
hand to pluck of the juicy fruit, a furious wind 
quickly tosses the branches toward the clouds. I 
saw also the shade of Hercules. He lives in Olym- 
pus with the gods and is married to Hebe, enjoying 
the pleasures of the gods in return for all his labor 
on earth. Only his shade is in Hades. Theseus 
and Pirithous also glided by at a distance. 

‘H did not venture to remain much longer in this 
dread place, but full of what I had seen and heard, 
hastened back to the ship with my companions. 
We all went aboard and Oceanus bore us back the 

[89] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


way we had come. Circe had scarcely heard of our 
arrival when she visited us and sent us plenty of 
bread, meat, and wine. When it began to grow 
dark she seated herself by my side, apart from the 
others, and gave me much wise advice for my com- 
ing voyage. She warned me against the Sirens who 
entice travellers with sweet songs, only to devour 
them like beasts of prey. ‘As it is impossible to 
resist their entrancing singing,’ she said, ‘take this 
piece of wax and knead it into a paste with which 
to stop the ears of thy companions; but cause thy- 
self to be bound to the mast, and when, carried 
away by the magic singing, thou wouldst set thy- 
self free, let them bind thee the faster. 

“‘Another and greater danger awaits thee in the 
fearful abyss where dwell Scylla and Charybdis. 
There the sea is forced between two high rocks 
scarcely an arrow’s flight apart. Deep at the foot 
of one lurks Charybdis, the monster, gulping down 
endless streams of water with all ships and men who 
approach too near, and long afterwards spitting them 
out again dashed to pieces in the turmoil. Beware 
of that side and keep closer to the right, where the 
other monster, Scylla, dwells. When thou passest by 
thou wilt be obliged to pay her a terrible toll, for 
with each of her six jaws she will snatch one of 
thy men from the rower’s bench. But it is better 
to lose six men than to see thy whole ship go down 
in Charybdis’ whirlpool. Finally I warn thee of 
the sacred oxen of Helios on the island Thrinakia. 
Shouldst thou harm one of them, I prophesy destruc- 

[90] 


ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


tion for thee and thy ship and thy friends; and even 
if thou shouldst thyself escape, thou shalt return 
home only after many years, unhappy and without 
any companions.’ 

“Thus spake the glorious goddess, and as rosy 
Eos appeared we hastened to our ships to take 
advantage of a favorable wind. As soon as I thought 
we were nearing the Sirens I kneaded the wax and 
stopped the ears of my friends; but me they bound 
fast to the mast. Thus we rowed on. The Sirens 
heard us coming and began their enchanting song. 
As I listened I was seized with an overmastering 
desire to hear more and struggled to loosen my 
bonds. I begged my friends with signs and gest- 
ures to aid me, but they only tied me faster, until 
the magical sounds grew fainter and fainter and the 
danger was left far behind. 

“We next saw mist and rolling surf and heard hol- 
low reverberations in the distance. The arms of the 
rowers became paralyzed and the ship stood still. I 
hastened among them and admonished them to row 
as fast as possible, but commanded the steersman 
to keep as far to the right as possible, that we might 
not be engulfed by Charybdis. I wisely kept silent 
about the fearful Scylla, or not a man would have 
rowed another stroke. As I stood on the high 
deck, armed with two spears and looking down into 
the foaming gulf, I heard a cry of pain on my right, 
and behold, the fearful monster had seized with her 
six jaws the bravest and strongest of my companions. 
They called loudly for help, but I could do naught 

[91 ] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


for them. At last we had passed through the awful 
gulf and feasted our eyes on the green hills of Thrin- 
akia. We could hear the lowing of the splendid 
oxen of Helios and the cheerful sound of bleating 
herds of sheep. Helios, the Sun-god, had placed 
these herds in the care of two nymphs, and delighted 
in watching them as often as he guided his golden 
chariot over Thrinakia^s hills. They never increased 
or diminished, neither did they grow old. 

“‘Friends,’ said I, ‘this is the fatal island, and I 
already see the pleasant flocks of Helios, to touch 
which means death. Let us heed the warning of 
Tiresias and the divine Circe and avoid the island, 
for they have told us that the most terrible fate 
awaits us there.’ 

My companions were displeased with my speech 
and began to murmur. Eurylochus was their spokes- 
man. ‘Cruel, but too courageous Ulysses,’ said he, 
‘thou art never weary, but we are worn out with our 
labors and thou begrudgest us rest. Thou wouldst 
have us row blindly out into the night. Let us land, 
take food, and rest beside the ship. Early in the 
morning we can set out again.’ 

“All applauded Eurylochus’ speech, and I perceived 
that the god was bent on my destruction. I said to 
them: ‘Ye can easily force me, a single man among 
many, to obedience. Only swear that ye will not 
touch one of those animals, but will be satisfied with 
the food which the immortal Circe has given us.’ 
They promised hastily and the steersman put to land. 

We disembarked and ate our supper. Then we 

[92] 


ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


bewailed the terrible death of our companions, and it 
was late before sweet slumber came to dry our 
tears. But alas, what an awakening we were to 
have. During the night a frightful storm arose 
and thick black clouds veiled land and sea. When 
morning dawned we drew our ship into a rocky 
cove and sheltered ourselves as best we could. 

“‘Friends,’ I said, ‘we shall not get away from 
this island to-day, but we have a store of food and 
drink. Swear to me once more that none of you 
will touch the sacred cattle.’ 

“They all promised, but for four long weeks the 
south wind and the rough east wind alternated with 
each other and our departure was delayed. When 
all the store of food had been eaten my companions 
scoured the beach to find shellfish or would shoot a 
bird for food. But all these were not enough to 
appease their gnawing hunger. I, too, wandered 
about the island far from the ship, washed my hands 
in the sacred sea, and prayed to the gods that one 
of them might show me the way to return. When I 
had prayed thus a deep sleep overcame me, and I 
sank down upon the shore. 

“When my companions found themselves alone 
they determined to break their oath. ‘If Jupiter 
has destined us to death, let us be suddenly dashed 
to pieces in the ship rather than die miserably of 
hunger here,’ said Eurylochus. ‘Come let us take 
some of the oxen and sacrifice them, and vow a 
temple in Ithaca to the offended Sun-god as soon as 
we are safe at home.’ 

[93] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


“Just as the fat shanks were steaming on the 
hastily prepared alt^r I awoke and came hastening 
to the scene. Ye gods! what were my feelings 
when I smelled the unexpected odors from afar. 
It was vain to blame myself or my companions. 
The nymphs had carried the news to Helios, and the 
god threatened that unless he should receive suffi- 
cient reparation he would no longer light the world 
for gods and men. Upon this, Jupiter promised 
him to destroy my ship as soon as I should put to 
sea again. Alas, what woes were still in store for 
me! 

“For six days my comrades feasted, but on the 
seventh, when the fury of the storm had spent it- 
self, we hastily embarked and sailed rapidly toward 
our native coast. We had not gone far when a 
terrific west wind arose, piling up black thunder 
clouds. Our little vessel was tossed hither and 
thither until, with a loud crash, the mainmast 
broke off, carrying the steersman with it into the 
sea. Then came a frightful bolt of lightning which 
split the ship in two and all the rowers were precip- 
itated into the water, where they tossed about and 
then sank. I had clung tightly to the keel, and when 
the broken mast with its sail ropes floated near 
enough, I bound it fast to the keel. I tried to keep 
myself afloat on this miserable raft, but despaired 
of ever reaching land, especially as a south wind 
suddenly arose, which carried me straight toward 
the straits of Scylla. The current bore me toward 
the whirlpool of Charybdis, so that only a miracle 

[94] 


ULYSSES TELLS HIS STORY 


could save me. On a cliff directly overhanging the 
gulf I saw a fig tree, and just as the whirlpool was 
about to suck me down I seized hold of its slender 
stem, clinging to it like a bat, for I found no place 
for my feet. My raft had been swallowed up, but 
I knew that the monster would soon cast it out 
again, and sure enough, presently my faithful 
raft came floating safely along. I essayed a sudden 
leap, grasped the raft desperately, and was carried 
out again by the current into the open sea. The 
storm had subsided and I paddled about for nine 
days with my hands, almost perishing with hunger. 
On the tenth day I was fortunate enough to reach 
land. It was Ogygia, Calypso’s island, where I 
was held in captivity for nine years, as I have told 
you.” 


[95] 


Chapter VIII 

Ulysses is taken sleeping to Ithaca by the 
Phceacians — Athene counsels him — He 
comes to Eumaus 


A LL eyes were fastened upon the speaker and 
/\ all listened with delight to the wonderful 
I \ adventures of Ulysses. “We should pay 
even greater honor to the hero who has suffered so 
much/’ cried Alcinous. “Let each of . the twelve 
princes add a tripod of bronze and a silver basin to 
his gift.” All agreed and the company broke up 
for the night. 

At daybreak they reassembled, each bringing his 
gift. Alcinous himself went aboard the vessel and 
carefully fitted it out with all that was necessary. 
Then all repaired once more to the king’s palace for 
a farewell banquet and sacrificial offering. Ulysses, 
longing for home, spake to the king. “Most hon- 
ored hero and mighty King Alcinous, and ye princes 
of the Phaeacians, speed me now upon my way, 
for I have all that heart can wish. May the gods 
bless your gifts and my return and send you good 
fortune.” 

After the last rites of hospitality had been com- 

[96] 


ULYSSES IS TAKEN TO ITHACA 


pleted Ulysses turned to Arete, and putting his cup 
into her hand he said: “Farewell forever, O Queen, 
until old age and death, the lot of all mankind, 
shall overtake thee. Mayest thou be happy in 
thy palace for many years amongst thy children, 
thy husband, and thy people.’’ 

After taking leave he hurried to the ship and 
laid himself down to rest, while the rowers took their 
places and bent to their task. Ulysses sank into 
a slumber, forgetting all his woes. As the morning 
star arose the ship landed in one of Ithaca’s bays. 
Even the shock of landing did not awaken the hero, 
and the Phaeacian youths carried him gently on shore. 
They took out all the presents and piled them beside 
him beneath an olive tree. They then reembarked 
and steered gayly homeward. But the unfortu- 
nates could not escape the wrath of Poseidon. He 
saw them returning, and transformed their ship 
into a rock in the midst of the sea and surrounded 
the city of Phaeacia with high cliffs. 

In the meantime Ulysses awoke and did not rec- 
ognize his home, for Athene had surrounded him 
with a thick fog. “Woe is me,” he cried. “In 
what strange country have the deceitful Phaea- 
cians left me.^ What shall I do.f^ I will first exam- 
ine the gifts and see if all are here.” He counted 
them and found none missing. As he was strolling 
along, Athene in the form of a lovely little shep- 
herd boy came toward him. Ulysses was overjoyed. 
“A greeting to thee, the first being I have met in 
this strange land,” he said. “I humbly beg of thee 

[97] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


to tell me where I am. What country is this and 
by what people inhabited.^ Is it an island or a 
promontory of the mainland?’’ 

“Thou must have come from afar,” interrupted 
the youth, “if thou knowest not this land; for in 
truth it is famous enough. To be sure it is rough 
and mountainous and not fit for horses, but grain 
and wine flourish here and it supports quantities of 
cattle and sheep. It is well watered by brooks and 
covered with magnificent forests. Indeed the fame 
of Ithaca has even reached Troy, and that they say 
is far from the Achaian land.” 

The crafty one hid his feelings, for he did not 
wish to be known. “Indeed,” he said, “I have 
often heard the name in Crete, my home. I am a 
refugee. The Phseacians kindly brought me hither 
with these, my goods; for I have slain a king’s son 
who wished to take from me my booty from the 
Trojan wars. Therefore T had to leave wife and 
child and — ” 

“Silence!” interrupted Athene, smiling and chang- 
ing into a beautiful maiden of heroic stature. 
“Thou art still the same resourceful Ulysses as of 
yore, whom I have always protected. Spare me thy 
jests, for we know each other. I am Pallas Athene, 
and am now come to give thee counsel how thou may- 
est punish the insolent suitors in thy house. For 
they have wooed thy virtuous spouse for three years 
with marriage gifts, but she repulses them all and 
cherishes thy image alone in her heart and longs 
unspeakably for thy return.” 

[98] 


ULYSSES IS TAKEN TO ITHACA 


‘‘It is difficult indeed to recognize thee in human 
form, oh goddess,” cried Ulysses. “True, thou 
hast often appeared to me in battle and in times 
of need, but it has seemed to me that lately thou 
hadst deserted me and that I should never see thee 
again. But tell me, how can this be Ithaca ^ I do 
not recognize it.” 

“I had not forgotten thee,” answered the god- 
dess. “But I did not wish to oppose the mighty 
Poseidon, my great uncle, who pursued thee with 
his revenge. I knew too that total destruction 
was not to be thy destiny. Now I will show thee 
the land.” And Athene dissipated the mists so 
that the country lay clear before them. 

Ulysses fell upon his face and joyfully kissed the 
sacred mother earth and with uplifted hands prayed 
to the nymphs, the protecting goddesses of the place 
whereon he stood. 

“And now, Ulysses,” said Athene, “let us hide 
thy valuables so that no one shall rob thee of them.” 
She entered the nymphs’ grotto and Ulysses handed 
her each piece, which she carefully stowed away and 
then rolled a stone before the low entrance. Next 
they sat down under the old olive tree and Athene 
gave him much advice. 

Although she promised him assistance she coun- 
selled him to proceed very cautiously as the suitors 
numbered over one hundred. Above all, nobody 
must know of his arrival until he had secretly learned 
who his friends were and had assured himself of 
sufficient adherents. To this end she wished to 

[99] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


transform him so that no one should recognize 
him or suspect the presence of the great king. She 
touched him gently with her staff and immedi- 
ately he became like an old man with shrunken 
flesh and deep wrinkles, white hair and pale, watery 
eyes. His long flowing robes were changed into a 
coarse and ragged shirt, and his cloak became a 
shabby deerskin. In order to complete the beg- 
gar’s garb she supplied him with a large wallet and 
put a knotty stick into his hand. 

In this apparel she bade him first visit the good 
swineherd, who was an enemy of the suitors and 
wa's truly devoted to his master. From him he could 
soon learn further particulars. In the meanwhile 
she would hasten to meet young Telemachus, return- 
ing from Sparta, for whom the suitors were lying 
in wait with their ships. She would bring their 
schemes to naught and hoped soon to guide the 
youth into his father’s arms. They parted, and 
Ulysses climbed the steep path which led to the 
dwelling of the good swineherd, Eumaeus. He was 
chief of all the king’s herdsmen and had four men 
under him, who took care of all the flocks. 

The estimable swineherd was sitting at the door 
of his hut cutting out sandals to wear when he 
should go into the city. By his side lay four savage- 
looking dogs. When the beasts saw Ulysses with his 
beggar’s pack in the distance, they sprang up bark^ 
ing and ran furiously toward him. He quickly 
laid by his staff and bowed himself down, but still 
they would have seized him had not the swineherd 
[lOO] 


ULYSSES IS TAKEN TO ITHACA 


followed quickly to enforce his commands with 
stones and calls. 

“In truth the beasts came near devouring thee and 
thou hadst caused me shame and sorrow, old man,’’ 
he cried. “ I have already troubles enough, for I sit 
here grieving bitterly for my dear master, whose fat 
swine I am obliged to send daily to the impious men 
in his palace, while he, perhaps, goes hungry or wan- 
ders like a beggar among strangers, if perchance he 
still sees the light of the sun. But come into my 
hut, that I may set bread and wine before thee and 
thou canst tell me who and whence thou art.” 

Thus speaking he preceded Ulysses into the hut, 
where he prepared him a couch of straw covered 
with goatskins. Ulysses was touched by his kind- 
ness and said: “May Jupiter send thee what thou 
most wishest for, friend, in return for thy kindness 
to me.” 

“One should not despise any guest, oh stranger, 
however humble,” answered the swineherd, “for 
all strangers are under the protection of Jupiter. 
In my house the hospitality is very scanty, for, as 
thou knowest, a servant has not much to give. To 
be sure, were my old master living and at home I 
should be better off. He would have taken good 
care of me and have made provision for my old 
age in return for my long and faithful service. But 
my good master is gone. O that Helen’s race 
might be destroyed root and branch for bringing 
death to so many brave men!” 

With these words he tucked up his long garment, 

[ loi ] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


went to one of the sties, and took out two sucking 
pigs. After killing them he slowly roasted them on 
the spit at the fire, laid the pieces before Ulysses, 
mixed wine in a wooden tankard, and set it before 
him. “There, stranger,’’ said he, “eat and drink 
of the best we shepherds have. The suitors who 
fear neither gods nor men eat the fattened pork. 
The gods have always been displeased at deeds of 
violence. Even robbers often fear the gods, but 
these fear and reverence nothing, and the divinities 
have delayed their punishment thus far. The cursed 
ones must have secret information that Ulysses 
has perished miserably, else would they not waste 
his substance so recklessly. No king hereabouts 
was so richly blessed with property as Ulysses. He 
owned twelve herds of cattle and as many of sheep 
and goats. Each of the shepherds must now send 
a daily contribution from the fattened flocks to 
the palace, and soon all will be dissipated.” 

The listener was indignant at what he had heard, 
but concealed his feelings, and when he had fin- 
ished eating he said: “What would you think, 
friend, if I should bring thee good news.?^ Tell me 
the name of thy rich and powerful master. I have 
travelled so far that perchance I can tell thee some- 
what of him.” 

“Spare thyself the trouble,” answered the swine- . 
herd. “He will not return. Who knows on what 
rocky coast his bones are bleaching.^ Woe, woe is 
me! Neither father nor mother was as dear to me 
as my kind master.” 

[102] 


ULYSSES IS TAKEN TO ITHACA 


‘‘Listen, my dear fellow,” answered Ulysses. 
“I will swear to thee a sacred oath that Ulysses 
shall return. When he has come thou shalt give me 
a fine tunic and. a cloak in return for my good news. 
I do not ask for them now, needy as I am, for I de- 
spise the wretch who lies for gain, even though want 
incites him. But hear me. All that I now fore- 
tell shall come to pass. When the present moon 
has waned and the new one begins to increase, 
Ulysses will be at home and shall have punished all 
who have not respected his wife and son.” 

“Silence, old man,” interrupted the swineherd. 
“Drink and talk of something else, and may the 
gods forgive thee the oath. Sadness fills my heart. 
I am troubled about the son also, the splendid Te- 
lemachus, whom an evil spirit has persuaded to wan- 
der abroad to seek news of his father. I hear that 
the shameless suitors are lying in wait for him to 
kill him on his return, that the race of Arkisios may 
perish. But now, old man, tell me of thy own 
troubles.” 

“It would take me a year to unfold my tale of 
woe,” answered the artful Ulysses, and began to 
tell many stories of his adventures and feats of 
bravery. When he had finished, “Unhappy man,” 
said the swineherd, “thou hast touched my heart. 
But why dost thou tell me lies about Ulysses who 
never will return Thou wilt not thus acquire my 
favor; for if I show thee honor and kindness I do 
it only in honor of Jupiter and for sympathy for 
thy troubles.” 

[103] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


“Thou hast an incredulous heart in thy breast,” 
cried Ulysses angrily; “for thou dost not even be- 
lieve my oath. But listen to me; we will make a 
bargain. I will stay here until Ulysses comes, and 
when he is here thou shalt send me home to Duli- 
chium, well fitted out with cloak and tunic. If he 
cometh not, then shalt thou and thy grooms bind 
me and throw me down from this rock.” 

“The gods forbid that I should ever do such a 
thing,” answered the swineherd. “Never could I 
pray to Jupiter again should I thus abuse the laws 
of hospitality.” 

During this conversation evening had descended, 
and the under herders came in with their beasts. 
There was a tremendous grunting, and it was a long 
time before all the bristly creatures were safe in 
their sties. When they were taken care of, the 
swineherd ordered the men to bring in a fatted 
five-year-old to regale the guest. 

While the men were outside he chopped wood 
and laid it on the fire and made all ready. When 
the meal was prepared, the good swineherd made a 
fair division. He divided each part seven times. 
The first part was taken out for the nymphs and Her- 
mes; the others were for his guest, his four servants, 
and himself. The old man received a large piece 
of the fat back, the piece of honor which is generally 
given to the guest. Ulysses was delighted and said: 
“Good Eumaeus, mayest thou be as beloved of Ju- 
piter as thou art of me, whom thou hast so honorably 
entertained.” 

[104] 


ULYSSES IS TAKEN TO ITHACA 


“Eat, my unhappy friend,” answered the kindly 
man, “and make the most of what thou hast, for 
the gods give and take as it pleases them.” 

After supper was over and night had fallen, an 
awful west wind whistled through the hut. The 
rain fell in torrents. Ulysses shivered miserably in 
his rags and it did not seem to occur to the swine- 
herd to offer him a warm cloak. The hero con- 
trived a jest to see if he could not get it by craft. 
“Listen, Eumaeus and ye shepherds,” said he. 
“The wine has made me merry and I must tell ye an 
amusing tale. Perhaps it is not fitting that I should 
tell it, but as I have begun I will finish it. I have 
just been wishing that I were as young and strong 
as when I lay with your master before Troy. And 
then I recollected a trick by which Ulysses once 
helped me in great straits. 

“One night we had planned an ambush close to 
the city wall — Menelaus, Ulysses, and I — but we 
had taken but a few men with us. Night was 
approaching and we lay down in a thicket amongst 
reeds and swamp grass. All at once the sky became 
overcast and a cruel north wind began to blow. 
Snow fell, and our shields were soon encrusted with 
ice. I was worse off than the others, for they had 
their cloaks in which to wrap themselves and were 
covered with their shields. Thus they slept without 
feeling the storm. I alone had not brought my 
cloak, and was obliged to lie in the rain in my thin 
tunic. My teeth chattered and I shook as though 
in a fever. 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


“At length, past midnight, when I could no longer 
endure it, I nudged Ulysses who lay beside me, and 
said: ‘Noble Ulysses, I am nearly dying of cold, 
for I left my cloak behind. Do thou devise some- 
thing for me.’ ‘Keep quiet,’ he said softly. Then 
raising his voice he awakened the others. ‘Listen, 
friends,’ he said, ‘I have just had a memorable 
dream. There are so few of us and we are so far 
from the ships, someone should run to Agamemnon 
and tell him to send us aid.’ Thoas, Andraemon’s 
son, obligingly set out, leaving his purple cloak 
upon the ground. Ulysses tossed it to me and I 
laughingly wrapped myself therein and slept till 
morning. You see, friends, I was thinking that 
were I now as young and strong as then that per- 
haps someone would give me a robe for the night, 
either out of good-will or for fear of my strength. 
But of course the humble man in beggar’s garb is 
despised.” 

The men laughed and the swineherd praised the 
stranger’s cunning. “Thou hast spoken well,” 
he said, “and hast drawn a very good compari- 
son. Therefore I will give thee what thou desirest. 
Take this cloak, but in the morning thou must 
give it back, for we shepherds have few clothes. 
If Telemachus should return he will doubtless 
give thee garments and send thee back to thy 
home.” 

While speaking he prepared a couch of sheep and 
goat skins by the hearth for the guest and placed 
a cloak over it to cover him. The servants lay 
[io6] 


ULYSSES IS TAKEN TO ITHACA 


down beside Ulysses, but the swineherd did not 
sleep within, but carefully guarding his herds he 
bivouacked nightly in a cleft by the rock which shel- 
tered him from the north wind. Ulysses was much 
pleased with the good man’s faithful service. 


Chapter IX 

Telemachus leaves Sparta and lands in Ithaca 


I N the meanwhile Athene had not ceased plan- 
ning for her favorites. That same night she 
went to Menelaus’ palace in Sparta to admon- 
ish Telemachus to return home and to warn him of 
the dangers lying in wait for him. “When thou 
art near the shores of Ithaca,’’ she said, “let thy 
companions row immediately to the city, but do 
thou go alone to the hut of old Eumaeus, who is 
honestly devoted to thee, to spend the night. Let 
him hasten to the city to tell Penelope of thy safe 
arrival.” With these words the goddess disap- 
peared. When morning dawned Telemachus arose 
and met Menelaus, who was also abroad, and imme- 
diately begged to be allowed to depart. 

“Far be it from me, dear youth, to keep thee 
here against thy will,” answered Menelaus. “But 
wait at least until I can give thee parting gifts and 
have the women prepare a good meal, that thou 
mayest set out strengthened and refreshed.” 

Menelaus bade the maids prepare a repast in 
haste and himself went into the treasury to select 
a gift for the departing guests. Helen also opened 
her chest, which held beautifully embroidered gar- 
[ io8] 


TELEMACHUS LEAVES SPARTA 


ments worked by her own hands. She took out 
the largest and finest one for Telemachus. Mene- 
laus followed her with a golden goblet and a silver 
pitcher. He presented them, saying: ‘‘May Ju- 
piter grant thee a prosperous voyage. Behold I am 
giving thee the most valuable thing that I possess. 
It was a present from the Sidonian king when I 
passed through Phoenicia. Truly it is as cunning 
a piece of work as though made by Hephaestos 
himself.” 

“I, too, desire to make thee a present,” said Helen, 
holding out the magnificent robe. “Let it adorn 
the bride on thy wedding day. Until then let thy 
worthy mother keep it in her chest. Fare thee 
well, and return in peace to thy stately palace and 
land of thy fathers.” 

Telemachus received the splendid gifts with 
gratitude and gave them to Pisistratus, who in silent 
admiration stowed them away in the chariot. Then 
they all went into the hall and sat down to the ban- 
quet. As soon as it was over, the two youths 
hastened to depart, and Menelaus accompanied 
them to their chariot with a goblet of wine, drinking 
to their health and giving them a final hand clasp 
with the words: “Farewell, youths. Bear my greet- 
ing to father Nestor who truly loved me like a 
father when we were fighting before Troy.” 

After taking leave of their fathers’ friends the 
two youths travelled rapidly until they reached 
Pylos. Then Telemachus said to Pisistratus: “I 
wish thou wouldst grant a request, good host. Drive 

[109] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


me directly to my ship on the beach, so that the 
venerable Nestor may not detain me with his kindly 
hospitality; for I am in great haste.’’ Pisistratus 
agreed to this, and Telemachus’ companions were 
overjoyed to see him again and at once prepared 
for departure. When all was ready, Telemachus 
placed himself at the rudder and with a silent prayer 
poured a libation to Athene into the sea, and they 
rowed away into the silent night. 

In the meanwhile the beggar Ulysses sat in the 
hut of good Eumaeus partaking of his humble fare. 
“Listen, Eumaeus,” he began. “I have been a bur- 
den to thee long enough, and intend to go into town 
early to-morrow morning. All I ask is that thou 
wilt give me a guide to show me the way to Ulysses’ 
palace. I desire to bring tidings to Penelope and to 
mix with the suitors and see whether they are 
inclined to treat me kindly.” 

“What art thou thinking of, old man.^” cried 
Eumaeus angrily. “Thou wouldst fare ill shouldst 
thou fall among that company, whose high-handed 
manners are beyond belief. Thou art not in my 
way. Wait at least until Ulysses’ son comes back, 
and he will doubtless give thee a good cloak and 
coat and provide a vessel to take thee where thou 
wishest to go.” 

“Excellent swineherd,” answered the crafty 
Ulysses, “may Jupiter love thee as I do for giving 
me rest and shelter in thy hut after all my sorrows. 
If I am to stay, then tell me somewhat of the mother 
of the famous Ulysses; also of his aged father.” 
[no] 


TELEMACHUS LEAVES SPARTA 


Upon this the old man began to talk of Laertes 
and the good mother, who had long ago succumbed 
to sorrow and been laid in the grave. The servants 
had long since betaken themselves to rest, and when 
midnight came the host said: “Now we too will 
sleep a little. But it is sweet to pour out one’s 
troubles, and thou art a sensible man to whom it is 
a pleasure to talk. There is always time enough 
for sleep.” 

During this same night the ship which carried 
Telemachus had approached the island in safety, 
having escaped the vigilance of the spies, and landed 
on the northern coast. With the first rays of the 
rising sun Telemachus disembarked with his com- 
panions and offered sacrifice. The good youth 
little suspected how near his father was. He bound 
on the shining sandals and took the heavy lance, 
prepared to separate from his companions whom he 
ordered to row to the city. He appointed a meeting 
the next day in his father’s palace to offer them the 
journey’s meed — a stately banquet of meat and 
wine. 

Telemachus had but one more care. In Pylos 
a soothsayer from Argos, Theoclymenus, had joined 
his company and requested passage in the ship. 
They had gladly brought him to Ithaca, but he 
wanted to go farther, and Telemachus was so afraid 
of the suitors that he scarcely dared bring a guest 
with him to his house. They therefore consulted 
together as to where the stranger should be enter- 
tained. Telemachus proposed Eurymachus, the most 

[III] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


insolent of the suitors, as host, as he was the most 
important man on the island and could best enter- 
tain and send him on his way. “He is now, as my 
father is away,” he continued, “almost the supreme 
ruler here and is determined to marry my mother, 
so that he may acquire, together ^with the property 
of my family, also the title of king and the princi- 
pal seat in the folks’* assembly, which of right be- 
longs to our house. Now Jupiter only knows 
whether or not he will gain his ends.” 

As he said this, behold, to their right a vulture, 
holding a dove in its talons, flew past. It was 
tearing the dove in its flight, so that its feathers 
fell to the earth between Telemachus and his ship. 
Then Theoclymenus took the youth quickly aside 
and said softly: “Friend, what thou hast just spoken 
shall never be fulfilled. This token of the gods 
tells me that rule over the princes of Ithaca shall 
always remain with thy house.” 

The heart of Telemachus was filled with joy at 
this prophecy. He bade the stranger farewell, 
and one of his men conducted him to the dwelling 
of Eurymachus, while Telemachus went to the hut 
of the swineherd, as Athene had commanded him. 


1 1 12] 


Chapter X 

Arrival of Telemachus — Ulysses reveals 
himself to his Son 


W HEN Telemachus reached the enclosure 
of the chief herder, the sun was already 
high in the heavens. The shepherds 
had scattered with their flocks and herds in fields 
and forest,, and the excellent Eumaeus was lying with 
Ulysses before the blazing fire where they had just 
roasted a piece of meat for their breakfast. ‘‘Listen, 
I hear footsteps,’’ said Ulysses, “and the dogs do 
not bark. It must be one of thy comrades or 
acquaintances.” 

Scarcely were the words spoken when Telem- 
achus appeared in the gateway, the dogs leaping 
about him in joyful welcome. The swineherd was 
so astonished that he let fall his cup and hurried 
out to meet the new arrival. He threw his arms 
about him, wept over him, and gazed upon him in 
delight as though he had arisen from the dead. 
It was a long time before he could speak, and then he 
broke out tenderly: “Hast thou really come, Telem- 
achus? Art thou here, my sweet life? I feared 
never to see thee again, when I heard that thou hadst 
sailed for Pylos. But enter, dear son, that I may 

[113] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


delight in thee; for not often dost thou visit the 
shepherd, preferring to mingle with the swarm of 
suitors in the city.” 

“How canst thou talk thus, old man.^” inter- 
rupted the youth. “But never mind. I have come 
to thee to find out whether my mother has listened 
to one of the suitors and left my poor house.” 

“No, indeed,” answered Eumaeus. “She still 
sits and weeps away her days and nights in thy 
palace. Thou wilt find her as thou didst leave her.” 
The two now entered the hut, and the unknown beg- 
gar whose heart was beating with joy at the sight of 
his handsome son controlled himself with difficulty. 
With the deference of the poor he arose from his 
couch to give place to the stranger, but Telemachus 
prevented him, saying: “Sit still, stranger. I will 
find a seat somewhere.” Eumaeus brought out the 
remains of the meal and they all sat down to eat 
and drink. At length Telemachus said: “Now, 
father Eumaeus, do thou go to the city for me and 
bring the news secretly to Penelope that I am safely 
returned from Pylos. But take care that no suitor 
hears it, for many enemies are plotting against me.” 

“Be it so,” said the herdsman, putting on his 
sandals and taking up his staff. Ulysses was still 
looking after him, when he saw through the half- 
opened gate the figure of a tall, slender maiden, 
beckoning to him. The dogs slunk into the corners, 
but Telemachus did not perceive the apparition. 
Ulysses divined that it was the goddess and went 
out to the gateway. 

[114] 


ARRIVAL OF TELEMACHUS 


“Noble son of Laertes,’’ Athene addressed him, 
“the time has now come for thee to reveal thyself to 
thy son. Take counsel with him how ye may make 
an end of the suitors. I shall soon be with you.” 

While speaking she touched him with her golden 
staff and instantly his beggar’s dress was transformed 
into a fine purple cloak and his wrinkled face into 
a fresh manly countenance and the bald head was 
covered with shining brown locks. He reentered 
the hut, from which he had just issued in rags, 
looking like a king. Telemachus gazed at him in 
astonishment and said, uncertainly: “Stranger, how 
changed thou art. Ah, I feel that a god approaches. 
Be merciful to us, thou holy one. Gladly will we 
sacrifice to thee and bring thee gifts.” 

“No,” cried Ulysses, “I am not a god. I am the 
father for whom thou hast mourned so long. I am 
Ulysses.” Joyfully he clasped his son in his arms 
and kissed him. 

“Doubt no longer, dear son,” continued Ulysses. 
“It was not I who worked the miracle, but Athene, 
who is with me. The gods can do all things; they 
can glorify or disfigure a mortal according to their 
pleasure. Yes, it is I, Ulysses, who have been wan- 
dering afar for twenty years, and thou art my beloved 
son. I have found my greatest happiness in holding 
thee here in my arms.” 

He could say no more for sobbing. Father and 
son wept for some time, closely clasping each other. 
Ever and anon they would gaze silently at each other, 
then break out in tears of joy and gratitude. 

[115I 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


At length began tender questionings, but the 
answers had to be left for leisure days. Now they 
must discuss the great question. A long time was 
spent in consultation and Ulysses instructed his 
son how to proceed and how to receive him when 
he should arrive at the palace. In the meanwhile 
the vessel which had brought Telemachus had sailed 
round the island and entered the harbor near the 
city. The men beached the ship. One faithful 
youth took Telemachus’ gifts away with him, 
another ran to Ulysses’ palace to bring the queen 
news of her son’s return. But he was so imprudent 
as to cry out the news to her before all the suitors, 
who gnashed their teeth with rage over the failure 
of their schemes and stole away to concoct secretly 
new ones. 

Soon afterward honest Eumaeus also arrived with 
his secret message, but found he was too late, and 
at once set out again for his home, where he arrived 
in the evening. Athene had again clothed the king 
in his beggar’s rags, so that Eumseus had no idea 
of what had taken place during his absence. He 
quickly selected a year-old pig for the evening meal, 
waited upon his guests carefully, and they all retired 
early to rest and received the good gift of sleep. 


[ ii6] 


Chapter XI 


Ulysses and the Goatherd — the Dog Argos — 
Ulysses in the Hall among the Suitors 

daybreak Telemachus arose, put on his 



sandals, and took up his lance. ‘‘Now 


X fa.re thee well, father,’’ he said to Eumseus. 
“ I am going to the city, for my mother will not cease 
worrying until she sees me. I charge thee bring 
thy guest to my house, where he may try his luck, 
and help shall not fail him.” 

“It is well,” said Ulysses. “In the city, where 
there are many rich people, a beggar can make his 
way better than in the country. The morning air 
is cold and my rags are thin, so let me warm my- 
self a while at the fire and then I shall be ready.” 

Telemachus walked quickly away. He reached 
town before the suitors had arrived at his house, 
placed his lance, according to custom, outside the 
door against a pillar, and entered the hall. There 
the old servant Euryclea was dusting and arranging 
the cushions. When she saw the youth she hastened 
to him weeping; the other maids also welcomed 
him and kissed his face and shoulders. Penelope 
also came and embraced her beloved son with tears. 
She held him for a long time in her arms and begged 
him to tell her what he had heard on his journey. 


[117] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


“Mother,” said he, “do not make me speak of 
new troubles, for I have scarce escaped death. 
But now bathe thyself and put on clean garments, 
then ascend to the housetop and vow a thank-offer- 
ing to the gods if they will avenge the shame of our 
house. I am going to the market place to fetch the 
stranger who accompanied me on my return.” 

He went, and his mother obeyed his behests. 
When Telemachus crossed the market place he found 
all the suitors assembled there. They greeted him 
pleasantly, but their hearts were full of mischief. 
He did not join them, but seated himself with the 
few older men who had remained true to his father, 
and answered their curious questions. As soon as 
he caught sight of the seer Theoclymenus, he arose 
and went to him and took him to his house, before 
the rough crowd had arrived. While Telemachus 
was entertaining his guest, Penelope came in with 
her women and sat down to spin and listen to the 
tale of her son’s adventures. He did not dare to 
betray the secret of his father’s arrival, so that 
Penelope’s longing remained unsatisfied until the 
cheering assurance came from the strange seer that 
unfailing signs portended the early return of her 
beloved husband. 

In the midst of her joy over this the queen was 
disturbed by the hubbub of the brawling suitors, 
who had been amusing themselves by throwing 
quoits outside the palace and now burst into the hall 
to feast and drink as usual. She went straight to 
her chamber, and the stranger, too, left the hall. 
[ii8] 


ULYSSES AND THE GOATHERD 


The servants began slaughtering the beeves, goats, 
swine, and sheep in the courtyard and preparing 
delicious dishes for the suitors. 

Ulysses had remained until noon in the herds- 
man’s hut. The road to the city was long, and the 
circuitous mountain path led past a well where the 
maidens were accustomed to draw water. An 
altar had been erected on the height where passing 
travellers made offerings to the nymphs of the 
spring. At this well the goatherd Melantheus met 
with the two wayfarers. He was an impudent 
fellow, unfaithful to his master, and ready for any 
mischief that the suitors should devise. He was 
an arch enemy of the swineherd, as of all honest 
people. Hardly had he caught sight of him accom- 
panied by a ragged beggar than he called out with 
coarse raillery: “It is a true saying that one beggar 
leads the other. How the gods do pair like with 
like. Where art thou going with the hungry one, 
thou ignoble swineherd ? Shall he stand at the door 
of the palace in his hideous garb to disgust the gay 
guests, to rub his shoulders at the doorposts, and 
beg for crumbs.^ If thou wouldst give him to me, 
to sweep out the stalls and make beds for the young 
kids, he might get some flesh on his bones. But of 
course, beggars’ bread is easily gained. I tell thee, 
if thou bringest the nasty fellow to the palace, bones 
and joints in scores will fly at his head.” 

With these insulting words he gave poor Ulysses 
a sharp kick. Ulysses reflected for a moment 
whether he should dash the wretch to the ground 

[119] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


— an easy task for him — or pretend to be weak 
and fearful. He chose the latter course and took 
the insult humbly. But Eumaeus defied the goat- 
herd to his face and prayed to the holy nymphs of 
the well that they should cause Ulysses to return 
and punish the wretch. To avoid the fellow the 
two companions let him go ahead with his goats. 
“Thou dog,” he called back, “some day I shall 
pack thee aboard ship and sell thee as a slave.” 

When Ulysses and the swineherd approached 
the royal palace, the beggar exclaimed with profound 
emotion: “Ah! one can see that this must be the 
stately dwelling of Ulysses. Inside, sounds of fes- 
tivity, and outside the defiant battlements the im- 
pregnable wall. A rich and mighty king must live 
here.” 

“Do thou enter first,” he said to Eumaeus. 
“I will soon follow.” Thus they passed into the 
courtyard. Behold, in the corner on the dunghill 
lay a dog called Argos. He was thin and wasted 
and swarming with vermin. A year before his 
departure for Troy, Ulysses had trained this dog 
for the chase. He had often played with him as 
a puppy, but when he had gone, Argos had been 
neglected. Now he was too weak to crawl, but 
when he saw Ulysses near to him he raised himself 
painfully and wagged his tail. When he tried to 
run to his master his legs gave way and down he 
sank. Ulysses recognized the faithful animal and 
turned aside to brush away a tear. Then he said 
to Eumaeus: “Tell me, Eumaeus. The animal there 

[l20] 


ULYSSES AND THE GOATHERD 


on the dunghill is well built. Was he not fleet of 
foot?” 

“Yes,” answered the swineherd; “he, too, misses 
his good master. Thou shouldst have seen him 
twenty years ago. He was his master’s favorite, 
for he had trained him, and no prey was so swift 
that Argos could not overtake it. But no one tends 
him now, and he has to pick up a miserable living 
in the courtyard. Servants are careless when the 
master is abroad.” 

The swineherd entered the house and was spied 
by Telemachus, who called him to his side where 
he was served with bread and meat. But Ulysses 
remained a while without to watch the faithful dog 
draw his last breath. Then he, too, entered the house 
and seated himself near the door in the hall. 

At first the feasters did not notice him, but Telem- 
achus sent him food. He laid it down upon the 
dirty wallet and ate, while the minstrel sang sweet 
songs to the music of his harp. When the singer 
had finished, Ulysses went among the suitors to 
collect alms, that he might discover which ones 
were kindly disposed and which were hard and 
cruel. Many gave to him pityingly and asked one 
another in surprise who the old man was and whence 
he came. “The swineherd brought him here,” 
cried Melantheus. “Who he is I know not.” 

“Swineherd,” grumbled Antinous, “why didst 
thou bring this fellow to the city? I thought there 
were plenty of us already to eat up the absent mas- 
ter’s substance, and we could do without beggars.” 

[I2l] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


‘‘Not seemly is thy speech, Antinous, although 
thou art noble,” answered the swineherd. “Thou 
wert always hard on Ulysses’ servants, and espe- 
cially on me. However, I take no notice so long as 
Penelope and Telemachus live in this palace.” 

“Hush, Eumaeus,” interrupted Telemachus. 
“Thou knowest Antinous. If that is thy only 
scruple, Antinous, that the alms which thou givest 
the poor come from my store, do not refrain from giv- 
ing. Neither my mother nor I begrudge them. 
But that is not thy real meaning. Thou wouldst 
rather use it all thyself.” 

“Thou insolent young cub,” interrupted Antin- 
ous. “If each of the suitors would send him what 
I do, he would not enter the house again in three 
months.” He accompanied these words with a 
motion toward a footstool under the table, and was 
just going to throw it at the beggar’s head when a 
neighbor seized his arm. 

Ulysses desired to tempt the ungovernable man 
further. He went up to him and begged an alms, 
and even tried to touch his heart by relating his 
wanderings and hardships. But Antinous harshly 
bade him begone, and Ulysses retired with the 
words: “Truly, Antinous, thy body and thy mind 
are not in harmony.” 

“Was there ever such an insolent beggar!” cried 
Antinous angrily. “Now truly, thou shalt not leave 
the hall unpunished,” and with all his might he threw 
the footstool, which struck Ulysses’ shoulder. He 
stood firm as a rock, only shaking his head in silence, 
I 122] 


ULYSSES AND THE GOATHERD 


then returned to the gate and sat down, opening his 
wallet. 

Telemachus could hardly contain himself, and 
even Penelope, who could hear all from her bal- 
cony, pitied the stranger whom she could not see. 
She desired Eumaeus to conduct the strange man 
to her, that she might talk with him and supply 
him with fine raiment. 

But he replied : “ I should like nothing better than 
to see the queen, for I have much to tell her, but I 
fear the cruel suitors. Bid the noble Penelope wait 
for me in her apartments until the sun is set. Then 
she may question me about her husband’s return.” 
And he remained quietly sitting on the doorstep, 
while his guests, having no idea that he was really 
their host, amused themselves, after the banquet 
was over, with singing and dancing. How he longed 
to have them go, that he might at last see his dear 
wife once more. But before he did so he was to 
have another strange adventure. 


Chapter XII 

Ulysses and Irus^ the Beggar 


A BEGGAR called Irus entered the hall. 
He was tall and thin, in spite of being 
well fed, and was a favorite with the 
suitors; for he was useful to them in many ways. 
He was greatly astonished to find his place already 
occupied and looked at the old man angrily and dis- 
dainfully, and relying on his own size and the sup- 
port of the suitors, he began, masterfully: “Get out 
of here or I will throw thee out! Up at once! In 
a hurry now! Listen, thou villain! If thou dost 
not move quickly there will be trouble between 
us!” 

Ulysses greeted him with dark looks and began: 
“Miserable creature, what have I done to thee.^ 
I do not begrudge thee thy part, and there is room 
for both of us here. Do not talk of fighting between 
us, for old as I am I should probably spill thy blood 
and rid me of thee for a long time to come.” 

“Ha,” cried Irus, angrily. “He talks like a 
washerwoman. I have a great mind to crack thy 
jaw. Come here and gird thyself, that all may see 
how I shall use thee!” 

Thus far the suitors had paid no heed to the beg- 
[124] 


ULYSSES AND IRUS 


gar’s quarrel, but now Antinous pricked up his ears 
and cried laughingly: “Here is an amusing comedy. 
The stranger there and Irus have challenged each 
other.” All sprang from their seats laughing and 
formed a circle about the two. 

“Listen,” said Antinous. “Here is a delicious 
morsel of tripe for the victor, and in future he shall 
drink and eat with us and be the only beggar al- 
lowed to enter here henceforth.” This proposal 
met with universal approval. 

Slowly Ulysses arose, pretending to be stiff in 
every joint. Said he: “It is hard that an old man 
weakened by want should be obliged to contend 
with a younger. But hunger forces me to try my 
luck. Only swear to me that no one shall assist 
Irus or mix in the fight.” 

Ulysses made ready by tucking up his rags, re- 
vealing naked shoulders, arms, and legs — and 
how powerful they were! The suitors were aston- 
ished. Irus also had misgivings and would have 
been glad to recall his rash words. As he hesi- 
tated the servants led him forward, trembling. 
Antinous forced him to the fore and the fight began. 
Ulysses reflected whether he should break the 
wretch’s skull with his fist or only lay him low with 
a moderate blow. He wisely decided on the lat- 
ter, so that the suitors should not become suspicious. 

Irus let fly and struck his adversary’s shoulder. 
But immediately he received a fearful stroke on his 
jaw from below, so that blood streamed from his 
mouth. With a shriek he sank down, pressed both 

[ I2Sl 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


hands over his face, and drummed with his feet 
for pain. The suitors set up a shout of laughter, 
but Ulysses drew the conquered man out into the 
courtyard by his heels and laid him in a corner. 
He replaced his old rags, took up his wallet, and 
returned to his place on the threshold. They all 
came up laughing, to shake hands with him, and 
Antinous laid the roasted tripe on his wallet, while 
Amphinomus brought him bread and wine and drank 
to him with a hearty handshake and a toast for 
better times. 

Before all this had come to pass Athene had 
inspired Penelope with the idea of appearing among 
the suitors and putting a stop to their plundering 
by means of cunning words. The goddess wished 
to give the unrecognized beggar the happiness of 
seeing his excellent wife in all her majesty and the 
pure light of her innocence and faithfulness. In- 
vested with divine beauty by the goddess, Penel- 
ope descended clad in a charming robe, her face 
covered with a long veil and accompanied by two 
serving maids. As she entered the hall, all gazed 
at her admiringly, each wishing that she might 
choose him for her husband. 

“By all the gods, noble Penelope,” cried Eurym- 
achus, “if all the sons of Greece could see thee, 
thy palace would be even more full of suitors than 
it is now — thou art so far superior to all other 
women in beauty and in nobility of soul.” 

“Alas, Eurymachus,” she answered, “the gods 
destroyed my beauty when my dear husband sailed 
[126] 


ULYSSES AND IRUS 


against Troy. If only he were restored to me, I 
should lead a glorious life; but now I mourn in sor- 
row, anxiety, and solitude. When he gave me his 
hand for the last time he said: ‘Dear wife, I am 
going to a long war in a distant country. The 
gods alone know whether I shall return. Take care 
of the house and our property, consider my father 
and mother, and bring up our son carefully. When 
he has grown to manhood, if I have not returned, 
make room for him in the house and do thou wed 
with another.’ Alas, I did not think that it would 
ever be; but to my sorrow fate has decreed that the 
fatal day of my espousals draws near. And what 
manner of wooing is this.?* It is customary for the 
suitors of a rich man’s daughter themselves to bring 
the beeves and fatted calves for the feast and to 
invite the bride’s friends and to bring her rich gifts. 
But who has ever heard of their squandering the 
substance of the bride whom they are wooing.^” 

The suitors were ashamed and promised to bring 
the beautiful Penelope handsome presents next day, 
and she did indeed receive richer gifts than ever a 
bride before. When she had retired, the suitors 
continued their sport. 

As night fell the maids appeared to light the lamps. 
That meant, in ancient times, to burn shavings in 
a brazier on high pedestals and then to renew the 
shavings when they had burned low. Ulysses said 
to them: “Go ye rather to the apartments of the 
amiable queen. Turn the spindle and comb the 
wool and bring her cheer. Leave the blazing 

[127] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


torches to me.’’ They only laughed at him, but 
when he threatened to tell Telemachus, they ran 
hastily away and left him. He tended the lights, 
meanwhile observing carefully all that the suitors did 
and said. 

Although he had seemed to gain their favor by 
his successful fight, still they could not long desist 
from teasing and mockery. “Look, friends,” laugh- 
ingly cried Eurymachus, “this beggar must be 
some good. See the glow which surrounds his bald 
head. Such a halo belongs only to the immortals.” 

The laughter of the crowd encouraged Eurymachus 
to continue his raillery. “Listen, old man. If 
thou wert not accustomed to a lazy, wandering life, 
I might have work for thee. How sayest thou.^ 
Wilt be my servant? Plough, plant trees, and carry 
leaves for bedding? I would pay thee well, give 
thee good raiment and sandals for thy feet. But 
doubtless thou wouldst rather idle about and fill 
thy hungry stomach at thy leisure.” 

“O Eurymachus,” Ulysses proudly answered, 
“were we both ploughing or mowing in the field, 
working against each other, it were a question which 
would earn the prize. And truly were we to go 
into battle and were I armed with helmet and har- 
ness, with sword and shield in my hands, thou 
shouldst see me at the front. Because thou art 
the strongest among many weaklings, thou think- 
est thyself great and powerful. But I believe if 
Ulysses should appear, both leaves of the door 
would be too narrow for thee.” 

[ 128] 


ULYSSES AND IRUS 


“Hear how saucy the fellow is getting/’ cried 
Eurymachus. “I will teach thee then to defy me!” 
And he seized his footstool and cast it at Ulysses, 
who, however, quickly bent down and threw him- 
self at Amphinomus’ feet. The stool flew over 
him and hit the arm of the servant, whose wine-jar 
fell from his hand, while he tumbled over back- 
wards. 

Angrily and noisily the suitors crowded forward, 
threatening the stranger. But Telemachus rose 
up and admonished them to be still and quietly 
leave the palace, as it was time for sleep. Biting 
their lips in anger, the suitors were astonished at 
the courage of the usually mild Telemachus. The 
gentle Amphinomus supported him and spoke 
conciliatingly, and so they all went to their homes, 
after making the final sacrifice to the gods. 


[129] 


Chapter XIII 

Ulysses and Penelope 


LYSSES remained behind, and as soon as 



the suitors had gone, he made a sign to 


^ J Telemachus to assist him in carrying all 
the weapons to the upper rooms. And behold, as 
they carried the swords and shields up the stairs, 
the dark passageway was filled with a mysterious 
light. “It is from the gods. Athene is with us,’’ 
said the wise man. “Thus are the immortals wont 
to manifest themselves.” 

When all the weapons had been disposed of, the 
father bade his son go to bed, while he betook him- 
self to the hall to await Penelope. She came from 
her chamber like the goddess Aphrodite. Her 
maidens placed a seat for her by the hearth and 
mended the fire. When the bright flames shot up 
and they saw the old beggar still there, they began 
to scold, and one even to threaten him with a fire- 
brand if he did not leave at once. But the queen 
reproved the maid as she deserved. At the same 
time she ordered a seat for the guest placed opposite 
her own by the fireside, and when he was seated, 
began to question him. 

He was unwilling to deceive his dear wife, but 


[ 130] 


ULYSSES AND PENELOPE 


she was so determined to learn his name and origin 
that he was obliged to spin the same web of lies 
with which he had deceived the swineherd. He 
also told how he had seen Ulysses, twenty years 
before, in Crete, when he had called for him and 
Idomeneus on the journey to Troy. At this point 
the crafty Penelope, wishing to test his veracity, 
asked: “Worthy guest, if thou hast entertained my 
husband in thy father’s house, tell me how he was 
apparelled and who was with him then.” 

“I remember perfectly,” answered the beggar. 
“He wore a magnificent cloak of dark, shaggy wool, 
fastened with a golden bar across the breast. It 
bore a splendid embroidery of gold — a young 
roebuck seized by a dog — and most lifelike were 
the rigid dog and the struggling buck trying to free 
itself with its feet. A fine tunic of shining white 
wool peeped from under the purple mantle. He 
was a stately hero, and the women looked upon 
him with pleasure. I cannot remember all his 
attendants. Only the herald I remember, for he 
was a humpback, and I think they called him Euryb- 
ates. The hero loved him above all the others for 
his devotion.” 

“Yes, he was very fond of him,” said Penelope, 
sobbing. During the whole recital her tears had 
been flowing. “Yes, stranger, thou hast spoken 
the truth. I wove those clothes myself and 
fastened that clasp on them for an ornament. Ah! 
how handsome my good lord looked in those gar- 
ments. Alas, how I have hoped for his return, 

[131] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


how I have wept for him, and what I have suffered 
daily from the suitors thou canst not imagine.” 

Ulysses controlled himself with almost super- 
human power. “Weep no more, most excellent of 
women. Let me rather finish my tale, for I still 
have much of comfort to tell thee. He for whom 
thou mournest will surely soon be here. I swear 
by Jove and by this hospitable hearth that I have 
told the truth and that all shall come to pass as I 
have said.” 

“Come, ye maidens! Honor this man in my 
house. Prepare a bed and covers for him, that he 
may rest in quiet and comfort,” said Penelope. 
“To-morrow morning ye shall bathe and anoint 
him, that he may take his place worthily among 
the men and partake of the feast at Telemachus’ 
side. And woe to them who shall insult or mock 
at him!” 

“Worthy lady,” answered Ulysses, “I have not 
been used to fine beds or soft covers since I left 
Crete; so let me remain here by the fire. And none 
of the maids shall touch me, unless it be that among 
thy household is some faithful old woman who 
hath suffered as much as 1. Her I would allow to 
wash my feet.” 

“Dear guest,” answered Penelope, “I have such a 
faithful soul. She nursed my dear husband and was 
his servant from childhood. She shall wash thy feet. 
Good Euryclea, come hither and perform the long- 
neglected task. Think that it might be thy dear 
master whom thou didst so love to serve.” 

[132] 


ULYSSES AND PENELOPE 


These memories caused the old nurse to shed 
bitter tears. “Alas,” she said, “the gods are my 
witnesses that I loved my noble master like a son. 
And now I will take good care of thee, as my mistress 
has commanded; and gladly too, for I must confess, 
stranger, from the first moment when I looked upon 
thee, it seemed to me that I had never seen a man 
so like Ulysses in voice and figure as thou art.” 

“All who have known us both, good dame, say 
the same, and everywhere men have called me 
Ulysses, in sport,” answered the crafty one. 

The old woman now brought the tub with warm 
water. Meanwhile the beggar had turned his back 
to the blaze, for he had suddenly bethought him 
that he was in danger of discovery. Since early 
youth he had had a deep scar above his right knee, 
where a furious boar had wounded him in the hunt. 
Euryclea knew this scar too well; therefore he placed 
himself in the shadow that she might not see it. 
But in spite of this she discovered it as soon as her 
hand touched it, and in joyful surprise she let fall 
his leg, overturning the tub of water. Fortunately 
Penelope had gone out for a moment and did not 
hear the old woman’s cry of joy. Ulysses sprang 
up quickly, putting his hand over her mouth and 
whispering hurriedly: “Foster mother, wilt thou 
ruin me? Be silent, if life is dear to thee, that 
no one in this palace may learn that Ulysses has 
returned.” 

“Thou knowest my heart is true and faithful,” 
answered the worthy Euryclea. Then Penelope 

[133] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


returned and seated herself opposite the beggar 
once more. “Alas/’ said she, “it seems as though 
I never should find rest. Every night I am dis- 
turbed by dreams in which I see my husband and 
which seem to promise his return. As long as my 
son was a child I had to keep our home; but now 
that he has grown to be a man, I am afraid that he 
is angry with me that I do not wed another and go 
away. For he suffers most from the squandered 
riches and I can never hope to replace his wasted 
fortune. My parents also urge me to yield my- 
self. Last night I had a strange dream. In the 
courtyard are twenty geese which I feed and take 
pleasure in. In my dream an eagle came flying 
from the mountains, killed them all, and flew away. 
And when I lamented and my women came to com- 
fort me, behold it returned, perched on the house- 
top, and spoke with human voice: ‘Courage, daughter 
of Icarius, this is no empty dream, for it shall be 
fulfilled. The geese are the suitors and I am thy 
husband come to avenge thee and me.’ I was so 
frightened that I awoke. Quickly I went to the 
window, and there were my geese feeding from the 
trough as usual.” 

“In truth, noble queen,” replied Ulysses, “the 
dream is plain enough. Believe me, destruction 
shall suddenly overtake the suitors.” 

“Alas, good stranger, all dreams are not to be 
trusted,” answered Penelope. “To-morrow is the 
fateful day which I have appointed for the contest. 
I have determined to propose a trial of skill, and shall 

[134] 


ULYSSES AND PENELOPE 


be obliged to take the winner for my husband. The 
favorite bow of Ulysses shall be brought forth, and 
the suitors shall try their skill at bending it. And 
alas, I must leave the palace of my glorious husband 
with the successful one.’’ 

The stranger signified his approval, while he in- 
wardly rejoiced at the opportunity this would give 
him to overcome all the suitors. The noble Penelope 
ascended to her chamber, but Ulysses remained by 
the fireside in the hall. 


[135] 


Chapter XIV 

Penelope arranges the Decisive Contest 


LYSSES turned restlessly upon his couch, 



when suddenly his divine friend Athene 


stood beside him, asking gently: “Why is 


thine heart so heavy? Surely thou canst trust the 
goddess who has protected thee in all dangers? 
If fifty companies of suitors fought against thee, 
thou shouldst lightly overcome them all. Sleep, 
for the goddess bids thee hope.” 

He slept, but before dawn heart-rending sobs and 
cries awakened him. It was Penelope’s voice, weeping 
and crying out Ulysses’ name a hundred times. A 
vivid dream had roused her: Ulysses in full armor 
lay beside her. Now was her rest gone and her 
tears flowed afresh. The heart of the valiant 
Ulysses was ready to break. He arose. It was 
dark and the stars were shining. He went to the 
window, and raising his hands, prayed: “Father 
Jupiter, if thou art gracious to me, grant me now a 
sign, that I may have faith.” 

And listen! A long peal of thunder echoed from 
the eastern sky, and at the same moment he heard 
the servant who was grinding corn say to herself: 
“Holy Father Jupiter, thou thunderest loudly. 


[136] 


DECISIVE CONTEST 


though the heavens are clear and starry! It must 
be that thou givest a sign. Oh, that thou wouldst 
hear my prayer, that this might be the last night 
on which I shall toil for the miserable suitors, who 
devour by day with laughter what we poor slaves 
must prepare in the sweat of our brows during the 
night. Oh, that they might all die and this be their 
last banquetT’ 

When Ulysses heard this his courage suddenly 
rose. He paced the great hall, turning over plans 
in his mind and awaiting morning impatiently. 
When it came, everyone about the house was busy. 
Telemachus went to the market place and Eury- 
clea called the maids together to plan their work 
for them. “For,” said she, “the suitors will as- 
semble early to-day to celebrate the feast of the 
new moon.” The swineherd came in early, driv- 
ing his contribution for the day — three fat pigs — 
and he at once sought the stranger from Crete. 
Ulysses went to meet him and pressed his hand 
kindly. 

“How dost thou fare.^ Dost stand in better 
repute with the company.^” 

“Oh, that the gods might destroy them for all 
the grievous mischief which they hourly commit,” 
replied Ulysses. 

The goatherd Melantheus now came along and 
could not pass the stranger without threatening 
and insulting him. Next came Philoetius, a master- 
herdsman. He, too, like good Eumseus, hated the 
suitors at heart and would long ago have gone away 

[137] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


had not love for Ulysses’ house detained him, and a 
fear lest the herds might fall into bad hands. He 
saw the beggar standing in the courtyard, and going 
to the swineherd he asked him softly: “Good 
Eumaeus, who is the strange man there He 
appears like a king, although bowed down by mis- 
ery.” Speaking thus, he approached Ulysses, offer- 
ing his hand and speaking cordial words to him. 

While they were talking together, the suitors, 
who had assembled as usual in the market place, 
were making new plots against the life of Telem- 
achus, whose bold tongue was becoming daily 
more threatening. Amphinomus tried to dissuade 
them, and for the present they agreed to let him 
go. The noisy crew now stormed into the palace. 
In the hall each laid aside his mantle. Then they 
offered up fat goats, young lambs, and fatted boars 
and beeves; others mixed the wine. While they 
were eating Telemachus placed a table for the old 
man at the door and gave him food and drink. In 
the midst of their sport the suitors could scarcely 
curb their insolence. A young fellow, son of a 
rich father in Same, now called out loudly to the 
company: “Listen, ye generous suitors, the stranger 
at the door has indeed had his portion of the feast, 
but I shall now present him with a special gift. 
He may give it to the maid who prepared his bath 
or any of the servants. See this splendid bull’s 
hoof. May it agree with him!” 

He threw it swiftly at Ulysses’ head, who jumped 
aside and avoided it cleverly. The suitors roared 

[138] 


DECISIVE CONTEST 


with laughter, in which Ulysses joined while nursing 
rage in his heart. Telemachus sprang up like a 
flame, crying angrily: “It is fortunate for thee, 
Ktesippus, that thou didst not strike the stranger, 
or I should have pierced thee with my lance, that 
thy father might have celebrated thy burial feast 
instead of thy wedding. And I advise no one to 
try anything more of that kind, for I will not permit 
it. That you consume my flocks and herds is bad 
enough, and ye may even murder me, as ye design 
— do so! I would rather die than see strangers 
abused in my house! Even my noble mother’s 
maidens have ye not spared!” 

All were silent until Agelaus began: “Friends, I 
am glad that ye do not reply, for Telemachus is 
not entirely wrong. But I should like to give thee 
some advice, Telemachus. Now that thou art 
grown and able to manage thy house, thou shouldst 
speak with thy mother and urge her to proceed to 
the choice of a husband as soon as possible, for there 
is certainly no longer any hope that thy father will 
return. When she has left thy house thou canst 
enjoy thy substance in peace, and none of us will 
further disturb thee in the possession of thy herds 
and acres.” 

“Now, by Jupiter,” replied Telemachus, “I do 
not prevent my mother’s choice. She may take 
whom she will. But far be it from me to drive my 
mother from the house by any hasty word or to 
compel her to a choice!” 

Athene touched the suitors with madness. They 

[139] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


laughed until their faces were distorted, while 
Ulysses, Telemachus, and the servants looked on 
with horror. But Theoclymenus, the stranger seer 
from Pylos, cried aloud as in an ecstasy of prophecy: 
“Unhappy men, what has come over you.? Your 
eyes are veiled, your heads are bruised, and your 
cheeks wet with unnatural tears. Ha, I see blood! 
It drips from the walls! It stands in pools! The 
courtyard is full of shadows, hastening out into the 
darkness of the spirit land. The sun is extinguished 
— a horrible darkness reigneth!” 

The wild laughter arose once more. The suitors 
only grew noisier in their rash blindness. The early 
meal was partaken of in a wild turmoil, and not one 
suspected what awaited them in the evening. 

When afternoon came the noble Penelope remem- 
bered her purpose of inviting the suitors to a trial 
of skill, and ascended to the chamber where the 
treasures of her dear lord were kept. His favorite 
bow, of pliant horn, was hanging there, dusty and 
unsightly, for it had not been touched for twenty 
years. Penelope’s tears fell upon her dear lord’s 
weapon as she took it down from the wall and 
brushed away the dust. She sat down, laid it 
across her knees, and sobbed aloud. When her 
grief had spent itself she left the chamber with the 
bow in her hands, followed by her maidens carrying 
the heavy quiver, full of arrows. 

She entered the portal of the hall of columns 
modestly wrapped in her long veil. Beside her 
stood an attendant maiden. She spoke: “Come, 
[140] 


DECISIVE CONTEST 


ye brave suitors who gather in my house daily to 
dance and feast and who pretend to woo me. Hear 
me and listen to the trial which he must stand who 
would become my husband. Here are the bow and 
arrows of my dear lord, Ulysses, and here the rings. 
Him will I follow as spouse who can most easily 
bend the bow and shoot through the twelve rings. 
My dear son shall lose his patrimony through no 
fault of mine.” 

She gave the weapon to Eumaeus to carry into 
the hall, and when the good man held the well- 
known bow in his hands, he began to weep and 
kiss the weapon. Philoetius also wept, for at the 
sight of the bow the memory of his beloved master 
overcame him. Antinous snarled at the faithful 
creatures and bade them quickly bring in the bow. 

The company now betook themselves to the hall, 
where Telemachus deftly planted the axes in the 
ground, so that they formed rings at regular dis- 
tances from one another. He then went to the 
threshold and took up the weapon. “It is a splen- 
did sport,” said he. “ I have a great mind to try it 
myself.” He lifted the bow to bend it, but in vain. 
After resting a moment he tried again, but neither 
did he succeed this time. He drew it for the third 
time and would certainly have succeeded, but his 
father made a secret sign to him. He leant the 
bow against the wall in pretended discouragement 
and said: “Either I am a miserable weakling or 
else too young. But the rest of you must now try 
it and end the contest.” 

[141I 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


Leiodes stepped forward, but his arms fell when 
he tried to draw the bow. One after another tried 
it, and one after another set it down unbent. They 
rubbed the horn with fat and warmed it at the fire 
to render it more pliable, and still it was not bent. 
By chance the two herdsmen went out together and 
Ulysses quickly followed them and drew them aside. 
“Friends, a word,” he whispered. “Ye are both 
honest fellows and faithful, and long to have your 
master back. And now, if he should come and 
needed your assistance, would ye defend the suitors 
or brave Ulysses.^ Show me your hearts.” 

“If Jupiter would but grant me this wish,” cried 
the herdsman, “thou shouldst see what my arms 
can do!” “And mine!” added the honest swine- 
herd. “Oh, that it might come true!” “It has 
come true!” said Ulysses with majesty. “Your 
master' is here and counts on you. I am Ulysses! 
Do ye remember the wound I once received from the 
wild boar.^ Here is the scar.” They recognized 
the mark and fell upon his neck and kissed his 
cheeks and shoulders joyfully. But Ulysses com- 
manded them to control their joy before they should 
be discovered. 

“Listen to my plan,” he said hurriedly, “and 
learn what you must do. It must be now or never. 
The gods will assist me, and you, honest friends, 
when all is finished, shall be to me as Telemachus’ 
brothers. I will bestow riches and lands upon 
you. Only do as I tell you. When we go back 
I shall demand the bow, and no doubt the suitors 
[142] 


DECISIVE CONTEST 


will object. But do thou, Eumaeus, pay no atten- 
tion, but go and fetch it. Then go out and tell the 
old nurse^ to shut up all the women in their quar- 
ters. Thou, Philoetius, hasten thou to close the 
doors of the house and put up the bars that none of 
the suitors may escape. I will now go in. Follow 
me, but singly and quietly.” 

When Ulysses reentered the hall and seated him- 
self in his old place by the door, the bow had just 
reached the hands of Eurymachus, who was sitting 
by the hearth seeking to make it more pliant with 
grease and the warmth of the fire. He then made 
trial of it ten times, but could not draw. At last, 
much discomfited, he laid it down. The boastful 
Antinous, who was no longer anxious to try his 
skill, proposed to wait until the morrow, this being 
a feast day. “Then,” said he, “we will make 
sacrifice to Apollo and try the bow once more. Now 
fill up the cups, for to-day is a feast day and we must 
drink a double portion.” 

This speech pleased everyone and the servants did 
as they were bid. When drinking had been resumed, 
Ulysses arose and began: “Listen to me, ye suitors 
of the esteemed princess, and especially ye two 
lords, Antinous and Eurymachus, I would make a 
proposal to you in jest. As ye do not care to bend 
the bow on this day of the feast, let me try it and 
see if any of my youthful strength remains, or if old 
age and hardships have sapped it.” 

As he had expected, murmurs arose on all sides 
and Antinous answered for the rest: “Miserable 

[ 143 ] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


stranger, hast thou taken leave of thy senses? The 
wine hath led thee to these unseemly words! Take 
care that thou be not put aboard a ship and sent 
to King Echetus, the scourge of strangers! There 
wouldst thou hardly escape with nose and ears uncut. 
Thou hadst better keep quiet and take what is given 
thee, and leave such business to younger men.’^ 
Penelope had remained in the hall with her ladies 
to await the result of the contest and now she spoke. 
“Antinous, I think thou art not just. Why should 
we omit the strangers who are our guests? Per- 
chance thou thinkest that if this man should draw 
the bow that he would wed me ? Let not this scruple 
disturb thee, for that is impossible.’’ 

“Oh, it is truly not that, noble Queen,” said Eury- 
machus. “But we fear the tongues of men, should 
a miserable wandering beggar man draw the bow 
which all we younger men have been unable to bend. 
It would be an eternal disgrace for us.” 

Telemachus now arose and spoke with dignity 
and emphasis. “Mother, thou hast spoken well. 
But no one in this house but I has a right to the bow, 
and I shall give it to whom I will, and woe to him 
who would hinder me. But do thou go up to thy 
chamber, attend to thy duties there, and direct 
the women servants. This is men’s business and mine 
most of all, for I am the head of the house.” 

Wondering, she withdrew, musing upon the wise 
words of her son. As she lay upon her couch she 
wept for her dear lord, until Pallas Athene gently 
closed her eyes in slumber. Meanwhile the swine- 

[144] 


DECISIVE CONTEST 


herd, who had been awaiting a sign from Ulysses, 
boldly fetched the bow and handed it to him. The 
suitors sprang from their seats as though they would 
lay hands on him, but Telemachus cried in a threat- 
ening voice: “Thou hast done well, father — for 
thou canst not obey all, and I am master here!’’ 

A loud malicious shout of laughter followed these 
words and their anger was dissipated. The swine- 
herd went directly to carry out the instructions 
he had received. Philoetius, also, stole forth to 
close and bar the doors, then returned as quietly 
and took up his post beside the swineherd. 

The eyes of all the suitors were now turned toward 
the beggar, who was turning the bow over and over 
and examining it carefully to see whether worms 
had perhaps eaten into the horn or it had suffered 
other injury. Many a youth said to his neighbor: 
“See how the old man examines the bow. Per- 
haps he has one like it at home or would make 
one like it. See how he turns it about, the old 
wiseacre.” 

Ulysses next pushed his table aside, lifted the 
mighty bow, and lightly as a minstrel touches the 
strings of his harp, he picked the taut cord of his 
bow, which responded with as fine a note as the twit- 
tering of sparrows. At that moment a tremendous 
thunderclap resounded through the house, making 
all the suitors tremble; but the king exulted in the 
favorable augury. He placed an arrow on the 
string, and without leaving his seat or waiting to 
take aim, he let it fly through the rings nor missed 

[i4S] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


a single one. The guests sat in silent astonishment 
while he spoke to his son. 

“Thou seest, Telemachus, thy guest brings thee 
no disgrace. Indeed, I feel that my strength is 
still unimpaired. But I think it is supper time. 
Then let us amuse ourselves with song and lute.’’ 

He accompanied these words with a sign which 
Telemachus understood. The youth went quickly 
out and soon returned armed and placed himself, 
expectant and darkly frowning, by his father’s 
chair, holding sword and shield in readiness for 
him. 


[146] 


Chapter XV 

Ulysses' Revenge 


U LYSSES quickly arose. Girding up his 
rags he threw the arrows to the ground 
before him and sprang to the doorway, 
drawing the bow. “Now I will choose a different 
mark,” he cried. “Let us see whether Apollo will 
now grant me his favor!” With this the death 
shaft sped through Antinous’ neck, just as he had 
taken up the golden cup to drink. The blood 
gushed from his mouth as he fell convulsed to the 
ground, overturning the table with the food and 
wine. Immediately the hall was in an uproar. The 
suitors vainly sought their weapons, crying: “Woe 
to thee, madman! Now thine hour is come and 
vultures shall feast upon thy flesh!” 

The fools! They supposed that the hero had 
hit Antinous by chance. But he soon undeceived 
them, crying in thunder tones which caused their 
hearts and knees to tremble: “Ha! ye dogs! Ye 
thought that I should ne’er return and therefore 
have ye squandered my substance, maltreated my 
servants, and insulted my poor wife for these long 
years with unprecedented insolence. Ye have feared 
neither the punishment of the gods nor the disap- 

[147] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


proval of mankind, but now the day of reckoning has 
come!” 

Horror seized the suitors, while Ulysses again 
raised the bow and pierced the breast of Eurym- 
achus with his shaft ere he could draw his sword 
and rush upon him. Telemachus with his spear 
stood by his father’s side to protect him, while he 
sent arrow after arrow into the crowd and one 
after another was struck down into the dust. 

Telemachus fetched helmets, shields, and spears 
for both the herdsmen, and they quickly armed 
themselves. Melantheus, the goatherd, who had 
more presence of mind than the rest, managed to 
slip out of the side door unobserved and bring down 
some of the weapons which Ulysses and Telemachus 
had wisely hidden in the upper chambers. Ulysses 
suddenly discovered that half of the front row of 
men were armed and spears began to hurtle past 
him. 

“What is this.^” he cried in dismay to Telemachus. 
“One of the maids or Melantheus must have brought 
them weapons. See how they defend themselves.” 

“Ye gods, it is all my fault,” said Telemachus. 
“I left the door of the armory ajar and the crafty 
goatherd has taken advantage of it. 

“ See, there he is sneaking out to fetch snother 
spear,” cried Ulysses. “Eumaeus! Philoetius! Fol- 
low him! Bind him! Hang him up, while my son 
and I fight on!” 

When the suitors saw that Ulysses and Telem- 
achus were left alone they took fresh courage, 

[ 148] 


ULYSSES’ REVENGE 


and it would have gone hard with the two against 
the combined onset of their foes, had not Athene in 
Mentor’s form entered at the critical moment armed 
from head to foot and thrown back the nearest 
ones with a powerful blow of her shield. 

“Mentor, cursed old man,” screamed all the 
suitors, “do not dare to help these two men, for 
when we shall have conquered them, then woe to 
thee and thy house! Flee, while there is yet time!” 

This angered Pallas Athene, and she spurred 
Ulysses on with encouraging words. He felt the 
presence of the goddess and renewed his super- 
human efforts. The two herdsmen now returned 
with a fresh supply of lances, and Mentor saw that 
the rest of the task could be left to the brave men. 

At last the greater part of the suitors had fallen. 
Some had already breathed their last. Most of 
them were writhing on the spears with which they 
had been pierced and lay bathed in their own blood. 
It was a horrible sight. As the four heroes prepared 
to give the death blow to the few survivors, Lei- 
odes sprang suddenly from behind a column, and 
clasping Ulysses’ knees, called loudly for mercy. 
“Give me my life,” he prayed. “I took no part 
in the evil deeds of the suitors, for I was their priest 
and only carried out the holy customs when they 
sacrificed thy steers.” 

“If thou hast been their sacrificial priest and 
prophet, thou must surely have foretold many 
evil things concerning me and have called down 
misfortunes upon my head in thy prayers. And for 

[149I 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


this thou shalt die a well-deserved death/’ replied 
the king with dark looks. He raised his sword and 
with a quick stroke severed the head of the still- 
kneeling priest, so that it rolled in the dust. 

He searched all the hiding places, but did not 
find another living soul, and contemplated with 
astonishment and horror the frightful work of his 
hands. Then at last he laid down his sword and 
lifted the bronze helmet from his perspiring brow. 
“Be quick, Telemachus, and call my old nurse 
Euryclea, that I may question her,” he said. 

Telemachus brought the old woman. She raised 
her hands and began to rejoice. But Ulysses stopped 
her and said reprovingly: “Hush, dame! At heart 
thou mayest exult that justice has been done and 
punishment meted out, but it is a sin to triumph 
over fallen men. They have their reward, but it 
is the gods who through me have accomplished their 
will. Now tell me of the women in the house, 
both those who have betrayed me and those who have 
served faithfully.” 

“Gladly I obey thee,” answered the old nurse. 
“Fifty women serve in the palace. Twelve have 
proved unfaithful and left the paths of virtue, neither 
obeying me, nor even the noble Penelope. But let 
me slip upstairs and wake the queen. She knows 
not of thy return, for a divinity has closed her eyes 
in a leaden sleep. How surprised she will be!” 

“Nay, mother, do not wake her yet. First com- 
mand the twelve refractory women hither.” The 
old woman hastened to obey. 

[150] 


ULYSSES’ REVENGE 


“When they come,” continued Ulysses to his son 
and the two herdsmen, “they shall first help us clean 
the dwelling, and when that is done, take them out 
to the outer courtyard, drive them all into the nar- 
row passageway, and strike them down with your 
swords, so that their souls may join the shades of 
the insolent suitors.” 

While he was speaking the women entered, fright- 
ened at the sight that met their eyes and trem- 
bling for their own lives. “Drag out the dead,” 
commanded Ulysses. “Lay them outside in the 
gallery.” 

They took hold reluctantly, assisted by the herds- 
men, and Ulysses saw that all was properly done and 
set in order, and then Telemachus and the herds- 
men conducted the women to their doom. After 
this they sought out Melantheus and prepared a 
terrible death for this base wretch. 

The work of slaughter was now complete. The 
herdsmen washed their hands and feet and went 
back to the hall. Here Ulysses ordered Euryclea 
to make a fire, fetch sulphur, and with its fumes to 
turn away the curse from this house of slaughter. 
The old servants now came crowding about their 
master to kiss him joyfully. This touched his 
heart and he pressed their hands in hearty greeting. 


[151] 


Chapter XVI 

Ulysses reveals himself to Penelope 


N OW at length Ulysses allowed the old nurse 
to carry the news to his sleeping spouse. 
Breathless she entered the chamber where 
the queen slumbered. “Penelope!’’ she cried. 
“Awake, my daughter! This is no time for sleep! 
He is here! Ulysses has come! All is over! Look 
down into the court. There they all lie in heaps. 
And hast thou heard nothing? Come quickly!” 

“Oh,” cried Penelope, stretching herself and rub- 
bing her eyes; “silly woman, how canst thou wake 
me thus and with such a fairy tale? Wouldst thou 
deceive me with false hopes? Oh, I slept so sweetly! 
How canst thou play such a trick on me? Only 
thine age protects thee from my anger.” 

“I am not jesting, my daughter,” answered the 
old woman. “He is here, and with Telemachus’ aid 
has killed all the ' suitors. It happened whilst 
thou slept.” 

“Mother, tell me the truth! How could he come 
so quickly?” She had sprung up and hung about 
the old nurse’s neck with anxious glances. Eury- 
clea laughed. “He has been in the house since 
yesterday and thou thyself hast spoken with him.” 
“What, Euryclea! The ragged old beggar?” 

[152] 


ULYSSES REVEALS HIMSELF 


“Indeed, yes. The beggar with the greasy wal- 
let whom the suitors made sport of. If they had 
but known!’’ 

“Alas, mother, how disappointed I am. That is 
not my husband. No, that is not Ulysses.” 

“Not Ulysses? Child, you are strange. I knew 
it last evening when I washed his feet and recog- 
nized the great scar — you remember it — from the 
boar’s tusk. But he would not allow me to speak.” 

“It cannot be! It cannot be!” repeated Penel- 
ope. “But tell me what has happened?” 

And then Euryclea had to tell the whole story of 
what she had seen and heard of the horrible mas- 
sacre. “Thy long-desired, beloved husband is be- 
low and awaits thee, daughter. Come quickly to 
embrace him.” 

“Ah, mother, do not rejoice too soon. Thou 
knowest how I long for Ulysses, but I know the gods. 
They often wander about over the earth to reward 
the good, surprise the wicked, and punish long-con- 
tinued evils. If the suitors are really killed, it must 
have been by a god, whom my misery has touched. 
How could a mere man, even though he were stronger 
and bolder than Ulysses, undertake so unequal a 
task? I did indeed admire the stranger’s mind, but 
he did not remind me of Ulysses. No, that was not 
my vigorous, impetuous husband. But I will go 
and view the horrible scene and talk with my son. 
If the stranger is my husband I shall know him 
by secret signs. But if he is a god, as I believe, we 
will sacrifice before him and worship him.” 

[153] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


They descended and entered the hall, where they 
found Ulysses sitting by the fire leaning against a 
pillar. He did not look up, but waited for what 
his wife would say. She sat opposite him a long 
time in silence. Sometimes, as she looked ear- 
nestly at him, she thought it was he; then when she 
looked upon his rags, she could not believe it. 

“Mother,” cried Telemachus, “hast thou no greet- 
ing for my father? Thou hast a heart in thy breast 
that is indeed harder than a stone.” 

“My dear son,” answered his mother, “thou dost 
me a wrong. I am dumb with astonishment. I 
cannot grasp the miracle and do not venture to ad- 
dress this wonderful man nor to look in his face. 
But if he is really my Ulysses, we shall soon recog- 
nize each other. We have secret signs between us 
that none others know.” 

“My son,” said Ulysses, smiling gently, “let 
thy mother study me a while longer. She certainly 
has reason to doubt me clad in these ugly rags. 
But now let us consult together how we may conceal 
the death of the suitors from the people to-day, for 
they all have relations and retainers who will seek 
to avenge them. We have killed not one, but one 
hundred. How shall we save ourselves?” 

“Dear father,” replied the modest son, “thou 
must know, for no mortal is as wise as thou. It 
shall be as thou sayest. We will follow thee and aid 
thee as far as we are able.” 

“Then I will tell thee, what seems wise to me,” 
answered the resourceful Ulysses. “Let each one 

[154] 


ULYSSES REVEALS HIMSELF 


go first to the bath and put on his best garments. 
Let the women also don their holiday robes, as is 
seemly on the day of their master’s return. The 
gifted minstrel must strike his harp, that all the pas- 
sers by may suppose that Penelope is celebrating her 
marriage day. Then early in the morning we will 
leave the house and flee to Laertes’ country-place, 
where the gods shall give us further counsel.” 

The household at once carried out all these com- 
mands, and soon the hall, which an hour before had 
resounded with the deadly blows of Ulysses’ spear, 
and had looked like a bloody battlefield, was filled 
with gay strains of song and music of the lute. 

Meanwhile Ulysses, too, had gone to rid himself 
of his dirt and ugly rags. The old housekeeper 
conducted him to a warm bath and afterward 
anointed his head with precious oil. And behold, as 
he left the bath the goddess Athene suddenly clothed 
him with beauty, so that he appeared taller and 
stronger. The bald crown disappeared and his 
head was once more crowned with shining brown 
locks. His cheeks became rosy and the fire returned 
to the dull eyes. Blinded by the miracle, the house- 
keeper presented him the handsome tunic and cloak, 
and thus the conqueror reentered the hall in the guise 
of a king and hero. Everything was hushed, while 
all eyes gazed at the newcomer in admiration. 

Joyfully Penelope sprang up. Yes, this was 
her Ulysses, just as he had left her. But was it 
not a delusion.^ Doubting she sank back in her 
chair. But Ulysses stepped before her and held 

[ISS] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


out his arms joyously. “Now wilt thou not accept 
me again for thy husband, dear wife?’’ he cried. 
“What! Thou art not ready? Alas, in vain have 
I longed for thee! Go, Eurynome, make ready my 
couch, that I may sorrowfully retire to rest.” 

“Do so, good mother,” said Penelope. “Set 
his bed out of our chamber wherever thou wilt and 
prepare it with fine soft covers and skins.” 

It was the test by which the queen could recog- 
nize her husband. Ulysses had once built a sleep- 
ing chamber about the trunk of a great olive tree 
which stood in the court and had built the couch 
hard and fast into the trunk of the tree, so that 
no one could have carried it out until he should 
first chop down the tree. 

“Someone has destroyed my sleeping chamber, 
if the bed may be carried out,” cried Ulysses. “And 
I had joined it so well to the trunk of the olive 
tree.” 

Penelope burst into tears at these words and she 
trembled. “Ulysses, my dear Ulysses!” she cried 
as she threw her arms about his neck and covered 
his face with a thousand tender kisses. “Now I 
know it is thee, for no one in this house knoweth 
the secret but thyself and me. And now welcome, 
my precious husband, for whom I have wept a 
thousand sleepless nights, praying to the gods for 
thy safe return. Welcome! Welcome! But do 
not be angry with me because I did not know thee 
at once, nor trust the first assurance like a giddy 
young girl. There are so many crafty deceivers. 

[156] 



LYSSI^S REVEALS HIMSELF TO PENELOPE 





ULYSSES REVEALS HIMSELF 


Ah, hadst thou been able to see the struggle in my 
heart while I was burning to embrace thee. My 
seeming coldness was only caused by the innumer- 
able sufferings due to my mighty love.’’ 

Their tears mingled, and Penelope lay upon the 
heart of her newly found lord in silent rapture, 
her emotion expressing itself only in deep sighs. 
Midnight was long past when Eurynome brought 
her torch to guide them to their rest. 


Chapter XVII 

Ulysses goes to Laertes — His Father's Conflict 
with the Friends of the slain Suitors — Great 
Sacriflce and Festival in Ithaca 


B efore dawn, after a few hours of sleep, 
Ulysses arose and awakened his wife, 
Telemachus, and the herdsmen. “Come 
quickly, friends,” said he, “that we may reach my 
father’s plantation before daylight. Very soon 
the news of the death of the suitors will spread 
throughout the island, and the princes whose sons 
have not returned at night will set out to seek them. 
If they all unite and lead their people against us, 
we shall not be able to withstand them. There- 
fore we will conceal ourselves in Laertes’ distant 
garden in the country. Some god will then tell us 
what further course to pursue. But thou, Penel- 
ope, do thou remain here until I summon thee. 
Ascend to the upper chambers with thy maidens 
and stay quietly there, for their vengeance will not 
touch thee.” 

When he had finished speaking, the men took 
up their weapons and hastened away. With the 
first rays of the sun they entered the enclosure that 
surrounded old Laertes’ country-seat. His house 

[158] 


ULYSSES GOES TO LAERTES 


stood in front, surrounded by the farm buildings. 
The men were away at work, but Laertes was in 
the orchard, which he loved and where he himself 
labored every day. Telemachus explained to the 
servants that he had brought a stranger who 
wished to speak with the old king. 

To Telemachus and the two herdsmen Ulysses 
spoke aside. “Remain ye here and prepare a select 
fattened pig for a sacrifice. Meanwhile I will go 
alone to my father and see if he know me. Then I 
will bring him here and we will eat together.’’ 

Ulysses found his father spading round a pear 
tree in the well-ordered orchard. He was so busy 
that he did not perceive the new arrival. Ulysses’ 
heart contracted at the sight. His father was clad 
in a dirty tunic, coarse and well mended. He had 
bound pieces of oxhide about hands and ankles to 
protect them from thorns, and he wore a cap of 
goatskin to shield his bald head from the cold morn- 
ing air. He finally rose from his work and saw the 
well-dressed stranger standing before him. 

“Greeting to thee, old man,” said Ulysses. 
“What good care thou takest of thy garden. Thy 
trees and vines look flourishing. Only thyself, it 
seems to me, art neglected. What niggardly mas- 
ter keeps thee so poorly and allows thee to go about 
ragged as a beggar.? Tell me, where am If I would 
inquire the way to the palace of Ulysses. I wish 
to see the gallant hero; he was my guest upon his 
travels, and as my way lay past Ithaca I have laid 
by my ship to visit my dear friend.” 

[159] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


‘‘Alas, good stranger,’’ replied Laertes, “thou 
hast come too soon. Who knows what monster 
of the deep hath swallowed him or upon what shore 
his bones are bleaching. It is ten years since Troy 
was destroyed, and since then we have watched and 
waited for him daily, and I most of all. For know, 
that the old man who stands before thee here, dig- 
nified by sorrow, is Laertes, father of the noble 
Ulysses. His mother died of a broken heart, but 
to me the gods have denied this boon.” 

“Worthy king,” replied Ulysses, “weep no more. 
The gods have rejoicing in store for thee. Living 
thou shalt behold thy son.” 

“Alas, do not encourage false hopes. What 
knowest thou of him.? Speak, man, if thou canst 
tell aught. Where hast thou seen him and how 
long since?” 

“About five years,” answered Ulysses. “But 
hast thou heard nothing of the rumors which are 
abroad? Men say that Ulysses has returned and 
found his house full of rude guests who squandered 
his fortune and wooed his wife; that he has destroyed 
them through craft or violence, and is once more 
master in his own house.” 

“Oh, that it were so,” lamented the old man. 
“Speak! Art thou a divine messenger and bringest 
me true tidings?” 

‘‘Noble king,” now spake Ulysses with trembling 
voice, scarce able to control his tears, “is it not true 
that thou didst once give that fig tree there to thy 
son when he was a boy?” 

[i6o] 


ULYSSES GOES TO LAERTES 


“Yes—’; 

“And this splendid row of pear trees also?” 

“Yes—” 

“And that thou didst often walk among these 
hedges in friendly talk with him, telling him the 
name and use of each bush?” 

“Yes, yes — !” 

“How he will rejoice when he returns to find thee 
in thy old haunts.” 

“ But ye gods ! How dost thou know this ? Thine 
eyes shine! Thou tremblest? Yes, thou art Ulysses, 
my son! By Jupiter, it is he!” 

“Yes, father, it is thy son. Oh, contain thyself. 
Take care, father.” 

Laertes now cried aloud: “If thou art really my 
son Ulysses returned, give me a sign, a convincing 
token, by which I may know thee.” 

“Examine this scar which the boar gave me 
upon Parnassus,” answered Ulysses gayly. “Thou 
and my loving mother didst send me to grand- 
sire Autolycus to fetch the gifts which he had 
promised me.” 

The old man’s knees trembled when he recognized 
the mark. Quickly he embraced his beloved son, 
who covered his face with kisses. And then Ulysses 
told his whole story down to the killing of the suitors. 
When he had finished, Laertes cried: “Now I see 
that you still reign, ye immortal gods. For at last 
these horrid deeds have been avenged. But, my 
son, how wilt thou escape the vengeance which such 
a bloody exploit will bring upon thee?” 

[i6i] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


“Let not that trouble thee,’’ answered Ulysses. 
“If the love of the people does not protect me, the 
spirit of Tiresias has promised me a place of refuge 
in the interior of the mainland, where a peaceful 
and happy old age awaits me. But now let us go 
down to the palace, where Telemachus and my 
faithful servants await us, and thou shalt clothe 
thyself as befits a king.” 

When all was in readiness, the happy company 
sat down to eat together. In the meanwhile rumors 
of the terrible fate which had overtaken the suitors 
spread through the city. Their fathers and rela- 
tives hastened to the crowded market place to in- 
flame the people. Eupithes, father of Antinous, 
who had cherished the hope above all others that his 
son was to be the successful wooer of the beautiful 
Penelope and ruler over all Ithaca, was the leader. 
He gained over many of the people by his eloquent 
pleadings, but others held back, especially after 
listening to Medon and Halitherses. 

“Friends,” said the former, “believe me, Ulysses 
did not do this tremendous deed without the help 
of the gods. I myself saw the divinity in Mentor’s 
form standing beside him and turning aside the 
spears. Even before the shaking of her shield, 
numbers fell before him. Do not oppose him or ye 
will fight against offended gods.” 

“No, ye Ithacans, do not take up arms against 
him. Let him alone,” said the cautious old Hali- 
therses. “He has but fulfilled the vengeance qf 
the gods.” 

[ 162] 


ULYSSES GOES TO LAERTES 


Many agreed with this and went quietly home. 
But the friends of the suitors and followers of 
Eupithes armed themselves and hastened from the 
palace to Laertes’ gardens, where they found the 
household under arms and ready to receive them. 

“Ah, this is a happy day,” cried the valiant 
Laertes, “when I may fight together with my son 
and grandson.” 

Now the goddess Pallas Athene, in Mentor’s 
shape, approached and breathed courage into him. 

“Come, noble Laertes,” cried the goddess, “thou 
shalt open this illustrious battle and cast the first 
lance at the enemy.” 

With a prayer to Jupiter he hurled the first spear, 
and see! it pierces the bronze armor and enters 
Eupithes’ breast. At the same moment a fiery 
bolt sent by Jove and accompanied by a roar of 
thunder struck the earth between the combatants. 
This terrible omen, together with the fall of their 
leader, robbed the enemy of their courage and 
reason. 

Then the goddess stepped forth and called to 
the combatants in a loud voice: “Men of Ithaca, 
desist! Give up this unhappy war which displeases 
the gods! Shed no more blood and depart quickly 
hence!” 

Upon this no one dared speak of revenge, and even 
the bravest warriors put away their weapons with 
the resolve never to use them against the man who 
had right upon his side. Time, by degrees, dulled 
the hatred even of the fathers of the murdered men. 

[163] 


ULYSSES OF ITHACA 


The wisdom, magnanimity, and kindness of Ulysses 
soon won all hearts and at last converted even his 
bitterest foes into friends. 

Ulysses did not forget the vow which he had made 
in the kingdom of departed souls, to the gods of 
Hades, to offer in sacrifice a young ox and, to the 
spirit of Tiresias, a black ram when he should be at 
home once more. Both victims were brought forth, 
and while the heralds were preparing the feast for 
the people, Ulysses gave the death stroke to the 
animals. While the fat pieces were burning on the 
altar, he prayed solemnly, with uplifted hands: 
‘‘Holy gods of Hades, here in my kingdom I thus 
gratefully fulfil the vow I made in yours. I have 
surmounted many difficulties and often barely es- 
caped with my life, always trusting in a fortunate 
outcome. And now, ye gracious gods, I can look 
back gratefully upon my past. Often will I renew 
this offering, for one should remember the dead 
gladly, nor ever shun the goddess of death and fate. 
But wherever destiny may lead me, oh grant that 
I may rule the people gloriously and in peace, and 
that the name of the illustrious Ulysses may live 
among future generations of men.” 


[164] 





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